Page 48 of Sweet T
“And that’s your friend. The one you went out with?”
Tucker gave Evan a quick, acknowledging grin, his eyes returning to the road. “Yeah. He’s the one. And Mr. Charlie is the married guy I told you about... with the young harem on the side.”
“So, gays have a monopoly on the restaurants in this town, I guess.”
“Mostly. Not Maria’s. We’ve been going there since I was a kid. The food is great. Margaritas too. Maybe we’ll swing by there for a late lunch.”
“Sounds fun.”
After Walmart, there was hardly anyone else on the road, as if the town was sleeping in. When they reached the square, Tucker slowed the truck and pointed at a blade sign that read Tucker’s Tavern. “That’s me on the corner.”
Next was the Rialto.
“And that’s the movie theater,” Evan noted.
“Yeah, their Sunday matinees start around two. And then you have Clement’s Pharmacy.”
“Oh. You could have got my prescription filled there.”
“I could have. And Dwight’s a friend. But the gossip mill is pretty active on the square. I wouldn’t risk buying an at-home STD test there. They’d eventually see you and put two and two together. You never know who’s gonna say what. I didn’t know anyone at the hospital pharmacy.”
“Thank you. You’re very noble, protecting my anonymity.”
“In that regard, maybe. But they’re already talking about you in town. I guarantee that.”
“What? How? I thought it was your friends that found me. You think they’ll say something?”
“Shelly won’t. She’s a vault. And I don’t think Brody would. But Chuck’s restaurant was open yesterday, and it is a pretty good conversation starter. Did you hear about the guy we found in Tucker’s parking lot? I’d like to think Chuck would keep his mouth shut, though.”
“I guess it is big news for a small town.”
“Oh, yeah. And there was Juanita from the hospital. I know her from school, but I don’t know her well. Pedro won’t say anything. But who knows about Daddy? He’ll be back at the courthouse tomorrow, seeing people all day.”
“I’m beginning to see why you live out in the country.”
“It’s not mean-spirited. Folks are just curious.”
“All the more reason I don’t want to go to the sheriff.”
“I’m still not at peace with that decision.”
They continued past the square without turning. “I’m gonna go down to the next light and turn around. I’ll show you the rest of the square on the return trip. That last business on the right was Broxton’s Law Offices, formerly Tuttle Broxton. He’s passed. His son Jeremy has it now.”
“Let me guess... someone else you went to school with?”
Tucker chuckled. “No. Jeremy is a caboose baby, close to Daddy in age. Tuttle was the only lawyer in town for a long time. He was a family friend and my grandpa’s lawyer.”
On the way back to the square, Tucker turned right into a gravel parking lot next to a gorgeous and enormous old home—white with black trim and shutters. The sign in front read:
The Hawthorne House
Short & Long-Term Boarding
“There’s my Aunt Barb on the porch.” Instead of parking, Tucker pulled up as close as he could to the walkway and hollered. “Hey, there.”
An attractive middle-aged woman stood. She had been sitting next to another woman who was reading.
Barb came down the steps to greet them. “Well, hey there. To what do I owe the honor of a Sunday morning visit from my favorite nephew?”