then said, “Shit, Lincoln. I just lost an argument, didn’t I.”
“I believe you did, yes.”
“And now you’re all proud of yourself.”
Lincoln shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“I don’t know, my friend. It’s a slippery slope giving women what they want. First thing this one’s going to do when I come out from under the anesthesia is start ragging me about writing that cozy mystery book. Make me the laughingstock of this entire island. The whole thing’ll be your fault and you’ll be gone and I’ll have to find some innocent person to take it out on.”
“You see the future very clearly.”
He nodded, rolling his window back up. “It’s a gift.”
* * *
—
ONE FINAL DUTY, Lincoln thought, saved for last because it was the most distasteful.
Troyer answered his knock wearing nothing but a Speedo—a relief, actually, though Lincoln did wonder, and not for the first time, why men with prodigious beer guts were so often proud of their physiques. For Troyer’s part, when he saw who was on his doorstep, he laughed out loud and called over his shoulder, “Roxy! Put some damn clothes on. We got company.”
Even with Troyer standing in the doorway, Lincoln had a direct line of sight out onto the deck, where the woman in question rose from the chaise lounge, came over to the screen door and peered inside through cupped hands and said, “What?”
“Nothing!” Troyer barked back. Then muttered, more to Lincoln than to her, “Show the whole damn world your pussy. See if I care.”
When he stepped aside so his visitor could enter, Lincoln shook his head. “I only have a minute.”
“Okay, I’ll come out,” Troyer said, letting the screen door clap shut behind him, to gunshot effect. Lincoln suppressed a smile. Earlier, when he’d announced his intention to pay Troyer a visit, Teddy offered to come along. Lincoln told him that wouldn’t be necessary, just to call the cops if he heard gunfire. In his mind’s eye he could see Teddy dialing 911.
“What’s the deal?” Troyer wanted to know. “Your friend didn’t give you my message?”
“No, I got it. I just wanted to let you know I won’t be putting my place on the market after all.”
“You don’t want to sell it. I don’t want to buy it. So why tell me?”
“Well, my realtor noticed something when he was looking at the survey of my lot.”
The other man stiffened visibly.
“Apparently you don’t have an easement through my property. Were you aware of that?”
“Oh, now I get it,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t want to sell me your house, you want to sell me an easement for the price of your house.”
“No, I was thinking one dollar would do it. Of course if there are legal costs, you’d pay for those.”
Troyer cocked his head. “You’re saying you’d sell me an easement for a dollar?”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
There was a long answer that involved an apology Lincoln didn’t feel like making, so he opted for a shorter one that didn’t. “Why not?” he said. “We’re neighbors, right?”
“Not really. You’re never here.”
“Actually, my wife and I are thinking about spending a couple weeks here next summer,” Lincoln told him, though he hadn’t broached the subject with Anita yet. “Maybe bring my father along, if he’s well enough.” Who knew? If Dub-Yay was going to Mass, maybe he’d be game for this, as well.
“Avoid August,” Troyer advised, relaxing a bit now, but still suspicious. “That’s when Obama comes. Him and all the other libs.”
Lincoln indicated the man’s Trump sign. “You wouldn’t actually vote for him, would you?”
Troyer snorted. “Nah. That’s just there to piss off the rest of Chilmark.” But then he shrugged. “On the other hand, if he gets the nomination, I just might.”
Lincoln felt a chill, but shrugged it off. “The price of your easement just doubled,” he said.
He was halfway back up the hill, when he heard his name shouted. Turning, he saw Troyer loping uphill toward him, his gut jiggling over his Speedo. He arrived winded and clutching a swatch of papers. Lincoln didn’t recognize them as pages from Teddy’s manuscript until the other man handed them over. “Roxy found these in the yard.”
Unless Lincoln was mistaken, they’d been crumpled up and tossed in the trash and, just now, retrieved and hastily smoothed out. “Thanks. Teddy will be pleased.”
“So…this whole easement thing? Does this mean we’re good? No more bad blood?”
Lincoln nodded. “That’s what it means.”
“All right, then,” he said, offering his hand. “Good deal.”