Free The Blood Red Indian Summer by David Handler Page A

way.”
    “Mitch, you’ve been married. You know women better than I do. Will you give me an honest answer if I ask you something?”
    “I’ll certainly try.”
    “What would you do right now if you were me?”
    *   *   *
    “So what would you do?”
    “Me? I’d grab Callie and sail the hell out of that nuthouse as fast as the wind would take me.”
    “But that’s running away, doughboy.”
    “You bet your sweet tuchos it is.”
    The sky over Long Island Sound was bathed in a pinkish glow as they walked Big Sister’s narrow beach together at sunset. The air was still insanely warm for late October. According to the Weather Channel’s ace storm tracker, Jim Cantore, a storm front would bring thunderstorms tomorrow night along with much colder temperatures. For now, it felt like August as they strolled along barefoot in shorts and T-shirts, sipping Bass Ales and holding hands. Mitch relished these precious moments with his lady love. And he never took them—or her—for granted.
    There was a decommissioned lighthouse out on Big Sister, the second tallest in New England. Forty or so acres of woods. And four houses besides Mitch’s antique post-and-beam caretaker’s cottage—all of them belonging to the Peck family. It was the Pecks who’d founded Dorset back in the 1600s. A rickety wooden causeway connected the private island to the mainland at the Peck’s Point Nature Preserve.
    “So is that what you told June to do?” Des asked him.
    “No, I’d never tell some young guy to quit the family business and take off. Who am I to tell him that? Although it’s pretty clear that he does need to get out from under his father’s—”
    “Wife?”
    “I was going to say thumb. But if you want to talk dirty…”
    “I don’t.”
    “Are you sure about that?”
    “Positive. Move it along, mister.”
    “He asked me if I thought he should tell Callie. I said that when the time was right to tell her, he’d know. And he would tell her. He’d want to because they’d be a serious, committed couple by then and he’d want her to know everything. I’m not sure whether that was sound, mature advice or just something I picked up from watching Gidget Goes Hawaiian . But it was the best I could do. Hell, I’m driving along with the guy in this shiny new truck and he drops this on me. Do you think I need a new truck?”
    “She’ll never understand. She’ll forgive him— maybe . But never understand.”
    Mitch glanced over at her as she strode along next to him, her smooth skin glowing in the pink sunset. “What would you have told him?”
    “I have no idea. And you don’t need a new truck. You already have the world’s greatest truck.”
    “It doesn’t have air conditioning.”
    “Open a window.”
    “It doesn’t have heat.”
    “Wear a jacket.”
    “It won’t go faster than fifty-five.”
    “Good. You shouldn’t.”
    “Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought.”
    Des sipped her beer and said, “I thought I sensed something between June and Bonita this morning. The way she looked at him. And the way he didn’t look at her. I can’t believe she actually played the race card just to cover her skanky ass. She’s a thoroughly reprehensible person. And Justy’s no dreamboat either.”
    “He used to beat up on June’s mom, according to June. It’s only a matter of time before he starts in on Bonita—if he hasn’t already.”
    “Really nice bunch of people. It’s a heartwarming story.”
    “Welcome to Dorset, where life is beautiful all of the time.”
    “Do you believe June’s version of the story?”
    “Which part?”
    “The part where he woke up inside of another woman and didn’t know it. Because you’d know if you were making love to someone and it wasn’t me, wouldn’t you? I’d sure know if it wasn’t you.”
    “Well, that’s not a fair comparison. You’ve grown accustomed to incredibly high standards in terms of technique, attention to detail, girth … Okay, ow, that