high-end bistros for the younger crowd like himself, but he rarely patronized them. Barney didn’t frequent them when he was back, either, preferring the comfort of old town. And yet, Barney was as high-tech as they come. Well, that was business. And he was never in town long enough to do much of anything but kick back until it was time to catch a plane to somewhere else. Usually no more than forty-eight hours, barely time to pound a few beers, visit with Granny and the aunts, catch some sleep, and be off again.
Gilligan’s was a ramshackle building by design, at least a hundred years old, a family business with the grandkids waiting tables—and doing their homework at the back tables—while aunts and uncles cooked and saw to the customers. Everything was homemade from scratch, all baked goods the envy of every housewife in Sycamore Springs.
Many a husband had been duped over the years, thinking it was his wife who had baked the delectable pastries she served him while, in truth, they came boxed from Gilligan’s, the boxes ground into bits in the trash compactor so as not to give away the housewife’s little secret.
Gus sighed as he played gymnast again and crawled out of the Beetle. He checked the skies once again. He made a bet with himself that it would be raining in less than an hour. Then the day was going to get even more depressing. He missed Wilson and wondered how the big dog was doing. Probably very well and being spoiled rotten in the bargain. What if his best friend didn’t want to come back to him when he finally found a place that would accept an animal? What would he do then? God alone knew the answer. His thoughts turned to his wife, to Elaine, the gold digger. Where in the hell did I go wrong?
Gus realized he wasn’t going to find answers standing here in Gilligan’s parking lot. Better to go inside and wait for Barney.
When Gus opened the door, he was greeted like a favorite customer and called by name. Even the grandkids doing homework called him Mr. Gus. He often took the time to help the kids with their math. He smiled and waved and was ushered to his favorite table in the back.
Gilligan’s wasn’t a nautical restaurant by any means. It didn’t have any kind of theme or specialty other than home-cooked food and a place that generation after generation took pride in running. There were no celebrity pictures on the walls, but there were plaques from Little League baseball and Pop Warner football, along with pictures of the various teams that Gilligan’s sponsored. Hanging from the rafters were green plants that the grandkids watered from stepladders when business slowed down. The tables were rough plank but sanded and polished, the scars of years of use evident. The captain’s chairs were oversized, with green-and-white cushions. Gus was thirty-two, and as far as he remembered, the cushions had always been green and white.
There was a counter with stools, where people who popped in for a homemade cinnamon bun and coffee or a slice of pie sat. The tables were for parties of three or more, or two if the restaurant wasn’t busy.
Gus loved the smell of Gilligan’s because it reminded him of his grandmother’s kitchen when he was growing up. It smelled of cinnamon, vanilla, celery, and a touch of garlic. Today there was spaghetti and meatballs, according to the chalkboard, so that accounted for the scent of garlic. The soft garlic twists were every bit as famous as the spaghetti and meatballs. There were never more than two specials on any given day, and today the second special was chicken potpie. He was going to get the spaghetti and meatballs, and he knew that Barney would opt for the potpie. They’d top it off with a big slice of blackberry pie with homemade vanilla ice cream.
One of the grandkids he’d helped with homework carried a large glass of frosty ice tea and set it down in front of him. Gus ordered a second glass for Barney, who came in just as the tea arrived. Gus got up. Manly hugs were followed by ear-to-ear grins, and they were back to the good old days, at least for a few minutes.
“You look like crap, Gus,” Barney said as he settled himself in the chair, which just fit his girth. It was then that Gus realized it had been almost a year, and