AS I WAS WALKING BACK to Marjorie Jane, I saw Jack come toward me, wearing another gaudy Hawaiian shirt. I tried to duck behind one of the palm trees, but the problem with palm trees is that their trunks are much narrower than my hips. There’s really no place to hide.
“Is that you, Mollie?” Jack called out.
I reluctantly came out from behind the tree and glanced around to see if there were any witnesses in case he decided to assault me again. “Did you want to check and see how I’m doing?” I asked sarcastically.
He came closer and looked at my forehead. “That’s a nasty lump. There was a tourist who got hit by a coconut last year. He had a bad lump on his head too, but I think yours is larger. It looks pretty painful.”
“It wasn’t a coconut and you know it, Jack,” I said as I backed up a
