A BEATER PICKUP TRUCK drove in and parked out in front, pulling just off the blacktop road in front of our old saloon building.
We heard the driver’s door open and thud shut, that familiar clang of metal to me. That way my truck sounded and it must be Uncle Jean bringing it back.
Perfect timing.
A trim, fit, and gray-haired older man opened the screen door and stepped into the building.
“Hi, Rochelle.”
“Hi, Jean. Thanks for bringing my truck back. Want some lemonade? Hami made some brownies...”
“Well, I did have some other work to be doing, but if Hami made the brownies, I can’t turn them down. Mind if I join you?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. Drag up another chair next to me. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to visit.”
Jean got another of the bentwood “caboose” chairs
