News travels faster on an island than other places. Fewer people, less to do, everyone knows everyone. Sometimes it’s silly to even call it news; it’s just information.
So I was surprised, when I came back the next morning to assess the repairs, that the neighbors hadn’t gotten the memo that they were staying elsewhere. Two flower arrangements and three casserole dishes took up a good bit of real estate on the porch.
I loaded the dishes into my truck; they were still warm. Good, I thought. Nothing has spoiled. A few of the Warners’ old friends still behaving like people do.
When I brought them to the cottage, no one was there, even the girls. I put everything in the kitchen, left a note, and when I walked outside, Billy Clayton was waiting in his car. Said he needed to talk to me.