The Writer by D.W. Ulsterman

of fish so had to go with something else for you. Hope that was OK.”
    Adele’s stomach growled at the prospect of a free meal. She happily accepted the offer.
    “Sure, you lead the way.”
    A moment later Adele was biting into the most delicious bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich she had ever tasted. The toasted dark rye bread was an especially nice touch.
    “This is so good !”
    The man smiled, pleased by the compliment.
    “My name is Bill, by the way. Bill Baldwin.”
    Adele swallowed the last of the first half of her BLT, and then issued a quick grin.
    “Nice to meet you, Bill. My name is Adele.”
    Bill shifted atop the wood bench on his side of the picnic table and paused for a few nervous seconds before proceeding.
    “So, do you mind telling me what he’s like? I ask because, well, his book, Manitoba , it was pretty important to me when I was a young guy struggling to make it to the next day and the story just, it just, uh, it really spoke to me, you know? That picture you were looking at inside my place was one of the reasons I risked everything to buy the business. It was like fate, right? I came here for some downtime and there was Decklan Stone looking at me from his place on that wall. I had a small inheritance after my mom died, had a little chef training from some schooling I took years earlier, and the place had a ‘For Sale’ sign and so I thought, why not? Six years later and I’m still here. I’ve been told he lives on a little island of his over in Orcas. And people have said he used to come over here to Roche all the time, but he hasn’t walked into my restaurant yet. I pretty much gave up hope of that ever happening, but now here you are, someone who has actually met the guy.”
    Adele swallowed the very last of the BLT, smiled and shrugged.
    “Here I am!”
    Bill chuckled, and then another somewhat awkward moment of silence ensued before Adele’s voice intervened.
    “You sure I can’t pay for the meal?”
    Bill waved away the offer.
    “No, but maybe, uh…”
    Bill’s voice faded into silence as he struggled to proceed.
    “I was wondering if you could take my copy of Manitoba with you and have him sign it.”
    “That’s it?”
    Bill issued a soft grunt.
    “Well for me that would be quite a lot, actually.”
    Adele reached across the picnic table with her right hand.
    “You got a deal. It’s the least I can do for the free meal, right?”
    Bill shook Adele’s hand slowly and then leaned forward over the table.
    “You think he won’t mind?”
    Adele withdrew her hand and then shook her head.
    “I don’t think so. He seems like a pretty nice guy, actually. Quiet, considerate, has that whole mysterious author, hermit-thing going for him.”
    Bill grunted again.
    “Yeah? Wow, that sounds so cool. Wait here, I’ll be right back with the book.”
    Adele watched Bill half run back inside the restaurant and then turned her attention to the rows of flags lined up alongside the wood-planked boardwalk. The flags fluttered in the soft breeze sweeping across the harbor. Each one represented a different country. She recalled reading online about how the resort would do an elaborate lowering of the flag ceremony at the end of the day during the summer months which included the national anthems of the United States, Canada, and Great Britain. This was followed by raucous cannon fire just as they would have done a century earlier. She hoped to be back during the summer months to witness the ceremony in person.
    “Here you go.”
    Bill handed her his hardcover version of Manitoba.
    “I’ll have him sign it the next time I see him, which should be tomorrow.”
    Bill’s head nodded several times like a cheap plastic, bobble-head doll.
    “That would be great, man, just great! So, who are you going to see now, someone around here?”
    “Yeah, a guy who lives on a sailboat. And then later I’m hoping to get some time with the owner of the hotel.”
    Bill’s mouth tightened into an