Vineyard Chill Read Online Free Page A

Vineyard Chill
Book: Vineyard Chill Read Online Free
Author: Philip R. Craig
Pages:
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I said. “Not much else. Most people think of rich people when they think of the Vineyard, but the island is one of the poorest counties in the state. When the tourists aren’t here, there’s a lot of unemployment and all of the problems that go along with poverty. A lot of it’s generational: fathers beat up their wives, and their sons beat up their girlfriends. Brainless parents produce brainless children. The same kid steals from his mother, gets his girlfriend pregnant, drives his car into a tree. That sort of thing. Five percent of the people cause ninety-five percent of the cops’ problems.”
    â€œSounds like every small town.”
    â€œOr city. The percentages don’t change much. You looking for work?”
    â€œMaybe. But don’t worry. If I decide to do that and if I can find a job, I won’t be mooching off you. I’ll get a place of my own.” He laughed that good, infectious laugh of his, and I heard my own laughter in response.
    â€œYou can stay as long as you want,” I said. “Hell, it’ll take a month just to catch up on what you’ve been doing since the last time you wrote.”
    We passed the Felix Neck Wildlife Sanctuary and a bit later, turned down our long sandy driveway. I parked in front of the house beside Zee’s little Jeep, and we both got out and went through the screened porch into the living room.
    Zee and the children came to meet us.
    â€œYou must be Zee,” said Clay. “I’m Clay.” He put out his hand and took hers, holding it just long enough. “It’s very nice of you to allow me into your home.”
    Her eyes danced. “It’s a pleasure.”
    â€œAnd you must be Joshua and Diana. Your father has told me of you in his letters.” He shook their hands and said, “He’s very proud of both of you.”
    They beamed.
    I pointed to the guest room. “You can put your gear in there, Clay, and I’ll fix us some drinks.”
    He excused himself and disappeared into the guest room, and I went to the kitchen and got the Luksusowa out of the freezer. I poured three glasses, added two olives to each, put the glasses on a tray with crackers, cheese, and smoked bluefish, and came back into the living room just in time to find Clay introducing himself to Oliver Underfoot and Velcro and distributing small gifts: perfume to Zee (her favorite; how did he know? I must have mentioned it in a letter), a pocketknife to Joshua (his first; I’d only recently decided he was old enough for one, but hadn’t told him so yet), and a tiny blue sapphire ring for Diana (just the right size, too).
    â€œHow about me?” I asked, putting the tray on the coffee table next to my delighted family members.
    He gestured at them. “You already have everything here a man could want.”
    I looked at Zee, who was smiling at everyone in the room. It had taken me years to capture her heart. Clay had done it in five minutes. Even the cats were rubbing against his legs.
    I felt good. I picked up my glass and raised it. “Here’s to us all,” I said. “God bless us, every one.”

3
    The next morning, Zee was back at work in the hospital ER, and the kids were in school by the time Clay came yawning into the kitchen, where I was reading the paper and having another cup of coffee.
    â€œIf I had more character, I’d be embarrassed,” he said, finding himself a cup, filling it from the pot, and sitting down across from me.
    â€œIt’s the Vineyard Sleepies,” I said. “You remember them. It happens to everybody. You come down to the island and the first thing you feel like doing is taking a nap, and the next morning you oversleep. Maybe it’s the salt in the air. It even happens to me if I’ve been off-island for a while. What’ll you have for breakfast?”
    â€œI see some toast here and a couple of slices of bacon. I’ll fry myself a
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