Wish You Were Here Read Online Free

gentlemanly gesture.
    â€œI’m doing just fine, thank you.”
    â€œGood afternoon, Doctor,” Susan said as Mrs. Murphy and Tucker greeted him with a chorus of purrs and yips.
    â€œHi, Susan. Good afternoon, Mrs. Murphy. And to you, too, Tee Tucker.” Dr. Johnson reached down to pet Harry’s buddies. “Where are you ladies headed?”
    â€œWe’re just trotting up to Crozet Pizza for subs. Thanks for holding down the fort.”
    â€œMy pleasure, as always. Have a good lunch,” the retired doctor called after them.
    Harry, Susan, Mrs. Murphy, and Tucker strolled down the shimmering sidewalk. The heat felt like a thick, moist wall. They waved at Market and Courtney Shiflett, working in the grocery store. Pewter, Market’s chubby gray cat, indulged in a flagrant display of her private parts right there in the front window. On seeing Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, she said hello. They called back to her and walked on.

    â€œI can’t believe she’s let herself go to pot like that,”
Mrs. Murphy whispered to Tucker.
“All those meat tidbits Market feeds her. Girl has no restraint.”
    â€œDoesn’t get much exercise either. Not like you.”
    Mrs. Murphy accepted the compliment. She had kept her figure just in case the right tom came along. Everyone, including Tucker, thought she was still in love with her first husband, Paddy, but Mrs. Murphy was certain she was over him.
Over
in capital letters. Paddy wore a tuxedo, oozed charm, and resented any accusation of usefulness. Worse, he ran off with a silver Maine coon cat and then had the nerve to come back thinking Mrs. Murphy would be glad to see him after the escapade. Not only was she not glad, she nearly scratched his eye out. Paddy sported a scar over his left eye from the fight.
    Harry and Susan ordered huge subs at Crozet Pizza. They stayed inside to eat them, luxuriating in the air conditioning. Mrs. Murphy sat in a chair and Tucker rested under Harry’s chair.
    Harry bit into her sandwich and half the filling shot out the other end. “Damn.”
    â€œThat’s the purpose of a submarine sandwich. To make us look foolish.” Susan giggled.
    Maude Bly Modena came in at that moment. She started to walk over to takeout, then saw Harry and Susan. She ambled over for a polite exchange. “Use a knife and fork. What’d you do to your hands?”
    â€œI was cleaning stamps.”
    â€œI, for one, don’t care if my first class is blurred. Better than having you look like Lady Macbeth.”
    â€œI’ll keep it in mind,” Harry replied.
    â€œI’d stay and chew the fat, ladies, but I’ve got to get back to the shop.”
    Maude Bly Modena had moved to Crozet from New York five years ago. She opened a packing store—cartons, plastic peanuts, papers, the works—and the store was a smash. An old railroad lorry sat in the front yard and she would put floral displays and the daily store discounts on the lorry. She knew how to attract customers and she herself was attractive, in her late thirties. At Christmastime there were lines to get into her store. She was a sharp businesswomen and friendly, to boot, which was a necessity in these parts. In time the residents forgave her that unfortunate accent.
    Maude waved goodbye as she passed the picture window. Harry and Susan waved in return.
    â€œI keep thinking Maude will find Mr. Right. She’s so attractive.”
    â€œMr. Wrong’s more like it.”
    â€œSour grapes.”
    â€œAm I like that, Susan? I hope not. I mean, I could rattle off the names of bitter divorced women and we’d be here all afternoon. I don’t want to join that club.”
    Susan patted Harry’s hand. “You’re too sensitive, as I’ve said before. You’ll cycle through all kinds of emotions. For lack of a better term, sour grapes is one of them. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
    Harry