cigarettes, boxes of cigars, and bottles of whiskey in festive wrappings, purchased wholesale from one or more of the delivery men he encountered while behind the bar or sitting in front of it. He gave both Nellie and Jane boxes of chocolates won from punchboards at any number of saloons along the row. Of course, Carl had managed to find a baby gift in a bar.
Jane came back to the present when she heard her dad sigh. Don shook his head. Jane knew that for her parents’ sake it would be best to find the relatives if there were any life and death decisions to be made. Jane figured Carl must be in his seventies or maybe he was even older. He had always looked exactly the same to Jane, even when she was a little girl. He had always been bald and too thin and near-sighted, with thick dark horn-rimmed glasses that looked too big for his pinched face. When it came down to it, if Carl wasn’t going to wake up, would Medicare make the decision to pull the plug or would the doctors ask Don and Nellie? Or would whatever doctor on duty when the insurance ran out be the one given the power?
“Maybe I can help find any relatives?” said Jane. “Or I can call Detective Oh. He can find anyone.”
“Who ate all of my banana cream pie?” asked Nellie from the kitchen.
“Lucky Miller stopped in for a couple of shots and he offered to buy Francis some pie,” said Jane.
“Lucky Miller was in here?” asked Don.
Jane explained that he was taping down the street. She also mentioned that he asked her to fill in for his assistant for a few days, to help him find a few of his missing possessions. She left out his reference to someone trying to kill him and his request that Jane find out what was up with Nellie.
“They serve liquor at the café. Why didn’t he get his whiskey there?” asked Nellie, standing in the kitchen doorway.
“He’s got something in his contract about daylight drinking,” said Jane. “Says he used to have a problem.
“Used to, huh?” said Don, with his first smile of the day.
Nellie took a metal coffee can out from behind her back and shook it in front of Jane. “So where’s the pie money?”
“Your mother keeps her food money separate. So when she orders from the bakery, she can pay it from the kitchen account,” explained Don, “and the kitchen account is whatever ends up in that can.”
Jane opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Don who had gone over to visit his pride and joy, his ornate polished brass cash register, a part of the EZ Way Inn as long as Don and Nellie had owned it. He looked at the paper tape he still used to keep track of the day’s receipts.
“What’d you charge him for the Bushmills? I haven’t sold a shot out of that bottle in years. Don’t even remember what it cost. I’ll have to look it up.”
“She didn’t charge anybody anything for anything,” said Nellie, crossing her arms in front of her. “Did you?”
Jane shook her head. She explained that Francis had informed her of his coffee deal, then Lucky ran out the door so fast, she hadn’t even remembered to collect.
“I don’t think he’s used to paying. Probably his assistant…”
“Better fill your purse with money from his petty-cash box,” said Nellie. “Sounds like you just took a babysitting job that might cost you money.”
Nellie was right. Jane began to apologize, but her mother cut her off.
“No need. Wasn’t your fault. I told your dad he should have a price list. Half the time Carl gave away the store. He never knew…” Nellie stopped and retreated back into the kitchen.
“I’ll make a price list,” said Don. “For you, if you help us out. And I’ll have to hire somebody for nights, I guess.”
Jane realized what an enormous weight had descended on her parents and the EZ Way Inn. Carl might have been a grouch and, on occasion, a grinch, but he was reliable and honest and loyal to Don and Nellie.
“How about Bill what’s-his-name, who worked for Wally for a
Jane came back to the present when she heard her dad sigh. Don shook his head. Jane knew that for her parents’ sake it would be best to find the relatives if there were any life and death decisions to be made. Jane figured Carl must be in his seventies or maybe he was even older. He had always looked exactly the same to Jane, even when she was a little girl. He had always been bald and too thin and near-sighted, with thick dark horn-rimmed glasses that looked too big for his pinched face. When it came down to it, if Carl wasn’t going to wake up, would Medicare make the decision to pull the plug or would the doctors ask Don and Nellie? Or would whatever doctor on duty when the insurance ran out be the one given the power?
“Maybe I can help find any relatives?” said Jane. “Or I can call Detective Oh. He can find anyone.”
“Who ate all of my banana cream pie?” asked Nellie from the kitchen.
“Lucky Miller stopped in for a couple of shots and he offered to buy Francis some pie,” said Jane.
“Lucky Miller was in here?” asked Don.
Jane explained that he was taping down the street. She also mentioned that he asked her to fill in for his assistant for a few days, to help him find a few of his missing possessions. She left out his reference to someone trying to kill him and his request that Jane find out what was up with Nellie.
“They serve liquor at the café. Why didn’t he get his whiskey there?” asked Nellie, standing in the kitchen doorway.
“He’s got something in his contract about daylight drinking,” said Jane. “Says he used to have a problem.
“Used to, huh?” said Don, with his first smile of the day.
Nellie took a metal coffee can out from behind her back and shook it in front of Jane. “So where’s the pie money?”
“Your mother keeps her food money separate. So when she orders from the bakery, she can pay it from the kitchen account,” explained Don, “and the kitchen account is whatever ends up in that can.”
Jane opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Don who had gone over to visit his pride and joy, his ornate polished brass cash register, a part of the EZ Way Inn as long as Don and Nellie had owned it. He looked at the paper tape he still used to keep track of the day’s receipts.
“What’d you charge him for the Bushmills? I haven’t sold a shot out of that bottle in years. Don’t even remember what it cost. I’ll have to look it up.”
“She didn’t charge anybody anything for anything,” said Nellie, crossing her arms in front of her. “Did you?”
Jane shook her head. She explained that Francis had informed her of his coffee deal, then Lucky ran out the door so fast, she hadn’t even remembered to collect.
“I don’t think he’s used to paying. Probably his assistant…”
“Better fill your purse with money from his petty-cash box,” said Nellie. “Sounds like you just took a babysitting job that might cost you money.”
Nellie was right. Jane began to apologize, but her mother cut her off.
“No need. Wasn’t your fault. I told your dad he should have a price list. Half the time Carl gave away the store. He never knew…” Nellie stopped and retreated back into the kitchen.
“I’ll make a price list,” said Don. “For you, if you help us out. And I’ll have to hire somebody for nights, I guess.”
Jane realized what an enormous weight had descended on her parents and the EZ Way Inn. Carl might have been a grouch and, on occasion, a grinch, but he was reliable and honest and loyal to Don and Nellie.
“How about Bill what’s-his-name, who worked for Wally for a
Similar Books
