Page 78 of Southern Comfort
“Let me show you. It was easy. Bing is kinda brilliant at it.”
“Did I hear brilliant? Thanks, bro.”
Bing walks in the room eating a burrito. I’m not even going to ask.
“Turn on the light,” I say.
He does, then reclaims his property.
“Give that to me,” he says, scrolling through a few things and then turning it for me to see.
It is a Facebook page for a middle-aged woman. Her name does not match either the original buyer or the current owner.
“Who’s this now?”
“I’ll show you. Give it here. Let me show you her pictures.”
“How did you know where to look?”
Hunter takes the stage. “There’s too many details to tell you, but eventually we found the old guy’s daughter. Her name is Maddie Augustus Maple. Facebook is more an older generation platform. Mostly the Boomers get off on it. They have photographs of their families. You can piece things together because most pictures are labeled. That’s how we found her mother, Mabel.”
He hands the iPad over and I stare into the lined face of Mabel Augustus at her ninetieth birthday party. She sits in a wheelchair, but I would guess walking may be her only weakness. There is strength in her expression. She is surrounded by two younger women, probably in their sixties, who have pressed their faces against hers. Behind her on the street, through a picture window, sits the Galaxie.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hunter
“How’s it going?”
“Same as yesterday, Mom. The house is still standing and we haven’t set ourselves on fire yet.”
“Very funny.”
“We’re at the lake. I can’t talk long.”
“Alright. Me either. Ronnie and I are picking up Landon’s sister at the airport.”
“Did Landon get ahold of Mabel yet?”
“They talked yesterday. But there’s another call scheduled for today. She wants her daughters to hear his proposal.”
“Is she all there?”
“Hunter!”
“What? It’s a valid question. She’s ninety.”
“She’s really hard of hearing. Otherwise she sounded perfectly lucid. One of the daughters lives with her and had to do the talking, because the mother got frustrated.”
“Does he think she’s going to sell?”
“He’s hoping. There’s a chance.”
Bing hits my arm and lifts his chin in the direction of the two bikini wearing, hot as fuck, older girls walking our way. They have to be twenty-five at least, and they are looking right at us.
“Got to go, Mom.”
Think she said bye, but I may have disconnected a second too soon. I’ll call later.
