And a little girl in a hand-me-down coat had just told me not to send any more of it.
So the Following Tuesday I Did Something I Had Never Done in Sixty-Six Years
I closed the market at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday, which I have done maybe four times in my life — twice for funerals, once for the flood in ‘04.
I put the sign in the window. I drove across town. I parked my truck across from the lot behind Mark’s office — he does commercial insurance adjusting, or at least he did then — and I sat there with a thermos of coffee and the radio off, feeling like the biggest fool in the state of Ohio.
I want to be honest about what I was expecting.
I thought I was going to catch him at a sports bar. Or a casino boat. Something cheap and stupid and fixable with a hard conversation and a change in how I handled the money.
