Bill laughed, as he walked away from the bar, toward the table that Frank Pittman was sitting at.
"Mr. Pittman?"
The man looked up.
"Yes. Can I help you?"
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Frank Pittman
Bill offered his hand.
"My name is Bill Williams."
Frank stood and shook Bill's hand.
"Yes, Mr. Williams. I have heard your name tossed around here quite a bit. You bought the lighthouse, right?"
"That I did. Mind if I join you?"
Frank sat down, gathering his papers.
"Not at all. Have a seat."
"Didn't mean to interrupt your work."
"I was just about finished anyway."
"Have you eaten?" Bill wondered.
"No. Not yet."
"How about a steak and fries? My treat."
"I couldn't ..."
Bill cut him off.
"Nonsense."
He turned to the bar.
"Lindsay? Could you double that order for me. Mr. Pittman is going to join me for supper."
Lindsay nodded and headed into the small kitchen off the bar.
"That is very kind of you," Frank smiled, "but it has been my experience that nothing comes free in this world."
He finished his beer and raised the bottle, so Lindsay could see.
She quickly brought two more beer to the table.
"Bes 'bout thirty minutes or so for supper."
"That's fine," Bill told her.
He raised his bottle to Frank.
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
Frank Pittman
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