Chapter 16Knee-high aluminum walk-lights illuminated a 40’ X 50’ garden. It was 7:55 p.m. and the three of us had been at Sweet Paradise ten minutes, sitting on a wrought-iron bench. When we eventually rose, gluteal and posterior femoral regions would exhibit curlicue imprints, as The Big Bang Theory’s Amy Farah Fowler might describe; in more common terms, like those of Amy’s bestie Penny, our asses would be seriously bench dented.
Estimating by the number of cars in the parking lot, very few customers were still inside the shop. Since we’d arrived, four people had left and two had entered. Six LED lights illuminated magnolia and hala trees, and coconut palms lining the driveway for several yards, and more LED lights washed a thirty-car parking lot with anti-flash white. You couldn’t see
