Chapter Thirty-seven
Eighteen at Last
Dinner would be ready in about ten minutes, so she walked out and rang the bell on the eaves of the house adjacent to the door from the kitchen.
Gun-ho and Art were in the shop, preparing gear for the March halibut opening. Art heard the bell, even though the shop door was closed—he was hungry.
“Let’s go eat, Dad, I’m starving.”
“Me, too!”
They took off their coveralls and washed up in the shop sink, then walked out into the brisk early March evening.
Gun-ho ran his fingers over the tablecloth his mother put on the table—good dishes, too.
Gun-ho towered over his mother and delivered a genuine hug. “Geez, Mom, it’s just us. You didn’t have to use the good stuff.”
“Sweetie, you only turn eighteen once, but you won’t be back here until late tomor
