Amy stepped close to me and wrapped her arm around my waist. “I’m going to miss him.”
“Me, too.”
She squeezed me and then stepped back. “No sense being sad about it all day, though. I’ve got plans for us.”
“Browns game,” I said. “Right. We can watch that.”
“Christmas decorations at my apartment,” she said. “They don’t hang themselves.”
I looked at her in horror, then back out at Chatfield. “If I run really fast, do you think I can catch him?”
We locked Joe’s house and got into my truck and drove away. Snowflakes were falling now, remaining as crystals for a few seconds on the windshield before the heat from the truck reduced them to water. On the radio, the announcers were predicting six inches by nightfall. Joe would beat the storm on his way south, and I was glad for him. Amy and I were here for the duration, but that was fine, too. The snow would melt. It always does.
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A Welcome Grave lp-3 Page 33
