8
I took a deep breath in preparation for what was going to be, apparently, my second difficult conversation during my first cup of coffee. “Gentlemen, what can I do you for?”
Bear growled. Literally growled, and I took a step back. Then he cracked up laughing.
“Nothing, Harvey,” Pickle said. “We heard about what happened last night and just wanted to stop by and show our support.”
“After breakfast, of course. You do know that the gas station just north of town has the best bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits on the Eastern Shore, don’t you?” Bear patted his stomach.
I laughed. “I was not aware of that, but I do hear the one south of town has the best fried chicken in the State.”
Pickle cackled. “Darn tootin’. We do love our gas station food.” He straightened his tie. “Seriously, though,
