Bev—
Midnight Rider plays on the jukebox, and as I wipe down the bar, I start humming along. I’ve always loved this song. We’ve only got two customers this afternoon, and I wonder if things will pick up soon. But then, Tuesdays are always slow at The Rusty Pelican.
The bell over the door jangles, and I turn to see my uncle walking in. He makes a slow, shuffling beeline for the bar, and takes the stool right in front of me.
I toss my bar rag and lean my elbows on the polyurethane surface. “How’s your day going, Uncle Bill?”
“It’s going really good, Bev, honey. How’s yours?” he asks with a gleam in his eye.
“ Fan-tastic ,” I say, drawing the word out.
He nods and grins, like we share a secret. Imagine that.
A news report on the tv behind the bar grabs both our attention.
A news anchor comes on with a special report. Breaking News flashes in a crawler along the bottom of the screen.
“It has just been confirmed by Channel 2 News that the identity of one of the three people killed in the fiery crash we reported on this morning is that of Connor Waters, son of Governor Mason Waters, along with two of his friends. It is still not known what caused the one car accident where the car hit the bridge abutment at a high rate of speed. Alcohol has not been ruled out.”
Behind her, the station plays footage of a burning car and the fire department trying to put it out.
I whistle. “Wow. That’s really something, huh?”
“Yeah,” Uncle Bill says, then leans closer. “Got something to tell you.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I received a little box in the mail this morning. Addressed to me and Yolanda. I thought it was a new box of checks from the bank, but there was no return address. Inside was a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills. Almost an inch thick.”
“Imagine that,” I say, with no expression on my face.
“You get one, too?” he asks.
I just smile. “You want a beer, old man?”
“Sure, I’ll take a beer, honey.”
I draw us each a draft and hold my glass up. “Here’s to new friends, paid off credit cards, and good-hearted old doctors.”
My uncle clinks his glass to mine with a wink. “Amen, honey. Amen.”