Chapter Forty-Two
For one of the first evenings Alfred could remember, the sky was completely clear. No clouds were overhead and the coloring of sunset was present the whole town over. The rooflines ran a deep red as the terra cotta tiles caught the light, and the tree tops glowed yellow with the rays stretching across the island. He stood outside the Lyceum, a tall wooden building attached to the Episcopal Church on 20th Street, and admired the flaming fronds as they danced in the breeze. The love letters for sand dwellers, Florence had called them.
Hilary was late arriving, and Alfred was already on edge when the old man finally walked up, his goggles still wrapped around his forehead.
“You look like a horse jockey.”
He stared at him quizzically before reaching up and sliding the gog
