“And why isn’t the rental company taking care of it, again?” Bob-Gunnar asked.
After our needlessly confrontational conversation with Hunter, we had strolled dejectedly back up Main Street to get back to the business of cooling our heels. Well, I had strolled dejectedly; Thumper had seemed to take the news of our latest delay more or less in his stride. A stride, I couldn’t help but notice, that developed a veritable bounce as we climbed the slope up to the Mayor’s Digs.
Bob-Gunnar must have seen us coming, and was standing on the porch by the time we reached the front steps.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Gonna be a few more days,” I answered.
“Oh?” Bob-Gunnar seemed about as dejected as Thumper, who bounded up the whitewashed steps.
“Is Mikey here?”
Bob-Gunnar jerked his head in the dire
