34 - Maeve
On the way home, Stan used his speaker phone to call Kathleen’s cell. Her voice had the raspy drawl of someone at the end of an exhausting day. I could hear the crashing of waves in the background. She was still outside, on the beach.
“Hey couz’,” he said. “Mind if I come to your place this evening?”
“Huh, no,” she said. “But you’d better order a pizza. I’m in no shape to cook.”
Sheer exhaustion dragged her voice down. I could picture her pulling her heavy cart over the unforgiving sand that would cling to her feet.
“A big pizza,” she added.
My fists clenched. She might want to drive her Chevy back home, but I felt anxious about exhaustion-induced accidents.
“We should go and get her,” I said.
Stanley nodded.
As we rolled in the direction of the beach, a resolution was
