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Gomer lived about five minutes away on Hot Skillet Road. The subdivision had changed in a matter of weeks and the whole place looked like a postcard for an inviting community, a good place to raise a family.
Given Wasteland’s history, who would’ve thought?
The gates leading to the tiny subdivision were freshly painted. Some of the homes now boasted cute boxwoods and manicured lawns, complete with cobblestone paths and shrubs.
“Someone has a fascination with orange and black,” Gertie said, pointing to one porch that duplicated another. They all had potted plants with small orange flowers, Halloween doormats, and even festive decals on the windows.
With the exception of the spooky stickers, the place really looked like a different world. If I were an outsider, I wouldn’t mind settling down here.
My mind reverted to my first encounter in the bayou. When I first stepped off the bus in Sinful, I felt as if I were imprisoned, thrown into a place where time stood still and everyone watched as if they were amazed by the simplicity.
Fortunately, I was wrong about everything.
Where I once imagined restraints, I’d found freedom. Even with an assumed identity, I quickly made lifelong friends. I became part of a community and even attended church on Sunday. A typical CIA sniper rarely, if ever, experienced such freedoms.
In a similar way, I’d been wrong about Wasteland, too. Gomer had promised to revive it and he had an excellent start.
“It’s Halloween,” Ida Belle reminded her.
“But Gomer is stuck on two colors,” Gertie said. “What about a deep emerald shade, maybe a splash of white?”
“At least he’s trying,” said Ida Belle. “You’re just sour because he didn’t ask for your advice.”
“Everyone likes to be needed,” she said.
“I’m sure he’d love to have the help decorating for Christmas or Thanksgiving.” I’d been around Gomer enough now to realize that while he had a simple mind, he could surprise us in areas like home décor, landscaping, and more. He wanted to build a strong sense of community for his daughter and would probably love it if Gertie contributed her time and effort, too.
I rolled down my back window to let the cool air hit my face. The morning temperature was somewhere around sixty degrees. Given the fact that my hair wasn’t frizzy, the humidity was lower than average. When my clothes didn’t stick to my skin, it was a good day.
Even if my day started before the morning paper hit my front lawn.
I smiled at the thought. Was Sinful one of the last small towns to still have a newspaper route and residents who managed their weekend plans around Sunday church services?
Probably.
“Should we discuss what just happened back there?” Ida Belle unbuckled her seatbelt so she could look back at me. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel good about Brigham Cable Daigle coming to the bayou.”
“Could be trouble,” I agreed.
Gertie said, “We’ll discuss when we head back to Sinful. Right now, we need to turn our attention to Gomer. We can’t be late or sidetracked.”
“What’s happening here today?” I asked, thinking I’d already been looped in. “This is more than just a preview of his haunted house.”
“Ah, and the sleeping sniper emerges,” Gertie said, driving to a gravel parking lot behind the Wasteland Steakhouse.
I caught a hint of Ida Belle’s smile as she turned away.
“I see how it is. You two get read in, but when I want intel?” I waved my hand and lowered my chin. “Forget about it.”
Gertie’s gaze met mine in the rearview mirror. “Good mobster accent.”
“She’s from the North remember,” Ida Belle said.
“Is there a reason that we can’t park out front?” We were a ‘stone’s throw’ from Wayward Waters and about the same distance from the loading dock. “Are we trying to remain incognito?”
“No,” Gertie deadpanned.
“Come on, Fortune.” Ida Belle hopped out of the car and slammed the door. Gertie followed right behind her.
Excitement lingered in the air. Something big was about to happen, and my senior friends were well aware of what that might entail.
A few seconds later, Gloria and Gomer circled the awaiting crowd. Gomer hurriedly thanked us for being there while his daughter said, “Dad is so excited. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“About the haunted house or grand opening?” I asked.
Gertie shook her head. “We didn’t tell Fortune everything.”
Gloria giggled. “Dad said no one knows everything.”
“Burn,” I said, striking my index finger against the air.
Gertie frowned. “You mean we’re not here to watch Gomer become the next mayor of Wasteland?”
Gloria shook her head. “The cameramen need me. I’ll see you after the...thing!”
“What thing?” Ida Belle called after her.
Minutes later, Gomer and Gloria stood before a podium. Gomer’s enthusiasm was contagious. The anticipation grew as he paused long enough to speak with a reporter.
Silence swept over the crowd. Everyone looked on, waiting for the big announcement.
“Thank you for being here,” Gomer said, leaning forward. He stuck his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. “Means a lot to us.”
“Is it just me or does he look like a Pekingese?” Gertie asked, studying him.
I’d been trying to tell them the same thing, not that it was the best comparison, but because he really resembled a Pekingese. I couldn’t help but think he’d parted his hair in the middle for that very purpose. With Gomer, anything was possible.
Southern to his core, Gomer wore denim overhauls and an orange shirt. On his head, a black trucker-style cap with bold white letters read: “Wasteland Welcomes the Lost.”
“So sweet,” Ida Belle said, sighing. “The father-daughter dynamic between those two speaks to how much he loves his little girl.”
“I agree,” I said.
Gloria tapped both microphones. “Can you hear us?”
“We can hear you!” Gertie yelled.
“Shh,” Ida Belle whispered. “We don’t want those cameras turning on us. Whatever Gomer has done, this is national news.”
That’s when I paid closer attention to the television crews. WLBR and WKBB camera crews were ready to capture a big announcement. “Maybe I should wait in the car.”
“And miss the best part?” Gertie scoffed. “You’d never forgive yourself.”
“She also can’t be in front of a camera, Hebert. I can think of at least ten million reasons why she needs to keep that in mind.”
“Right,” Gertie said. “In that case, duck if the cameras turn this way.”
“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls,” Gomer began, pausing to stare into the cameras. “I’ve invited my fam...I mean my friend...I mean my neighbors who will soon be our friends.”
“Daddy, just tell them why we’re here,” Gloria said.
“Gloria’s so excited, she’s busting at the seams,” Gertie said, clapping her hands together.
“Sometimes, I’m convinced she raised Gomer and not the other way around,” Ida Belle said, rolling her eyes.
I cringed. “I don’t see it.” But I kind of did.
He cleared his voice. “Hello everybody. I’m Gomer. Hollowman.” He looked around. “Hi Gertie. Ida Belle.”
They waved like a couple of fangirls.
He cleared his throat and stared at me. Before he could say my name aloud, I waved and blew him a kiss.
He blushed.
“Smart thinking,” Ida Belle whispered.
“Learned from the best.” Thanks to Ida Belle and Gertie, I’d become a girlie-girl and dangerous warrior all rolled up into one.
Gomer changed his stance and held the microphone with both hands. “Um. I have some good news. Seems I’ve finally struck it rich!”
“I knew it!” Gertie yelled, clapping her hands.
About that time, the cameras turned to us. I pulled my hoodie over my face and ducked between Ida Belle and a taller gentleman.
“Here we go,” Ida Belle said under her breath. “Stay down, Fortune.”
“We always knew you would find that rare coin, Gomer!” Gertie shouted.
“Thank you. Your faith in me will not go unnoticed.”
Gertie jiggled her shoulders. Ida Belle stood taller. I remained crouched, but clapping for him all the same. Gomer was such a nice guy. If anyone deserved a break, he did.
“As it turns out, I was the owner of a very nice piece of silver. It was a 1926-S Buffalo Nickel. It’s very rare,” Gomer said. “And, it was also very mine.”
I looked up at Ida Belle and shrugged. “Maybe he thinks someone will try to make claims on his new fortune.”
“Wait. There’s more,” Gertie said, leaning forward in anticipation.
Gloria smiled. “As it turns out, my dad found this nickel in a coin collection that his granddad left for him.”
“Wait,” someone in the audience said. “So you’ve been going around charging us for simple things like directions and you’ve always been rich?”
Gomer leaned toward the microphone and it rattled as he breathed. “That is correct.”
“Would it be too late to ask for a refund?” Gertie asked.
“You can always ask,” Gomer said, flashing a smile. “But I can also decline.”
“Good for you,” a reporter said. “Now, can we begin our interview?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Gomer sat on the edge of a barstool. He seemed to enjoy being in front of the camera. He was a natural. “What do you want to know?”
“What everyone wants to know,” the reporter said. “What will you do with the money?”
When Gomer didn’t respond, I slowly stood, recognizing that all eyes would be focused on the front. Gomer waited for a moment. He then leaned closer to the mic and said, “I’ll just pour my money and time into Wasteland and being a good father. Nothing else I want to do right now.”
The middle aged reporter, flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Nothing at all?”
“Well, shucks. What can I say? I’m a girl dad.” He gave Gloria a side hug and then shot me a toothy grin. “But I am a single girl dad. And nobody wants to be single forever. Do they?”
It was a question that I’d often asked myself.