Eastbound Sailing. Todd Foley

didn’t want to talk?

      “Meet me at the Harvest Cafe at noon and we can talk then, just a few blocks down,” she said, standing up and walking toward the door.

      Fair enough, he thought.

      Aiden nodded in agreement, made a mental note of the time and place, then turned to the counter.

      He ordered a large Americano and sat at her vacant seat, turning the paper back to its front page. The Cielo Platform. A weekly paper. Cielo must not have enough news for a daily.

      He flipped to the classifieds, looking for names of contractors. Circled a few. But what good were names without references? He could wait till noon to ask Rosemary.

      That was more than three hours to pass, and this was Cielo.

      He downed the coffee in three gulps and felt the strong substance hit his stomach with an abrasive warmth.

      Perfect balance.

      Aiden rolled up the paper, paid his tab and hopped back in the car. No way would he spend three hours in the Borough.

      * * *

      The 15-minute drive back to the cabin put him just after 9 o’clock. He threw the keys on the loveseat and grabbed a change of clothes from his duffle bag. It was time to shower.