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The Gate House :: Demille Nelson
Страница: 464 из 490I went back into the house, bounded up the stairs, grabbed the carbine, went down into my office, and looked out the window. The van stopped, and a young Hispanic-looking guy got out, retrieved the pizza from the rear, then ambled toward the front door. I mean, I wasn’t thinking that the pizza delivery kid could be a hit man, but it was just the act of me standing outside, with no one around, and Alhambra Estates five hundred yards away through the trees, that had spooked me for a moment. Well, that was good. Uncle Sal had been stuffing a cannoli in his mouth, or doing something other than watching the door, and the next thing he knew, he was looking down the barrels of a shotgun. Then, bang, he was in hell.
The doorbell rang, and I went to the front door. I stuck the carbine in the umbrella stand and opened up.
I looked over the pizza guy’s shoulder as we exchanged pizza for money, plus a nice tip, and I locked the door.
I can balance a pizza box on one finger, but I used my whole hand, and carried the box and the carbine out to the patio.
Susan couldn’t help but notice the carbine, and asked, “Do we really need that out here?”
“I hope not.”
I opened the box on the table, and the aroma wafted into my nose and engulfed my soul.
I sat, and Susan went inside, then returned with plates, napkins, knives, and forks. I explained that napkins were optional, and the rest of the stuff was not necessary.
I know that Lady Stanhope has eaten pizza – I’ve seen her – but she always approaches food like this with some trepidation and perhaps a little disdain.
I showed her how to flip the point back and bite it off, then fold the slice to stabilize it. I said, “It’s basic physics.”
So we sat there with our beers, and our pizza, and our rifle, and we had a nice lunch.
Susan confessed, “This actually tastes good.”
“And it’s good for you.”
“I don’t think so, but we can have this once in a while.”
I pointed out, “We could buy the whole pizza parlor.”
She laughed, then said, “Well, John, you saved the day, and I guess I owe you something.” She asked me, “Aside from the yacht, and unhealthy food, what would you like?”
“Just you, darling.”
“You already have me.”
“And that’s all I want.”
“How about a sports car?”
“Okay.”
I ate half the pizza – six slices – and Susan had a second piece, and we wrapped the rest for my breakfast.
Then we went to the bedroom to work off the pizza – sort of a victory lap – and pack for our trip.
The doorbell rang, and I went to the front door. I stuck the carbine in the umbrella stand and opened up.
I looked over the pizza guy’s shoulder as we exchanged pizza for money, plus a nice tip, and I locked the door.
I can balance a pizza box on one finger, but I used my whole hand, and carried the box and the carbine out to the patio.
Susan couldn’t help but notice the carbine, and asked, “Do we really need that out here?”
“I hope not.”
I opened the box on the table, and the aroma wafted into my nose and engulfed my soul.
I sat, and Susan went inside, then returned with plates, napkins, knives, and forks. I explained that napkins were optional, and the rest of the stuff was not necessary.
I know that Lady Stanhope has eaten pizza – I’ve seen her – but she always approaches food like this with some trepidation and perhaps a little disdain.
I showed her how to flip the point back and bite it off, then fold the slice to stabilize it. I said, “It’s basic physics.”
So we sat there with our beers, and our pizza, and our rifle, and we had a nice lunch.
Susan confessed, “This actually tastes good.”
“And it’s good for you.”
“I don’t think so, but we can have this once in a while.”
I pointed out, “We could buy the whole pizza parlor.”
She laughed, then said, “Well, John, you saved the day, and I guess I owe you something.” She asked me, “Aside from the yacht, and unhealthy food, what would you like?”
“Just you, darling.”
“You already have me.”
“And that’s all I want.”
“How about a sports car?”
“Okay.”
I ate half the pizza – six slices – and Susan had a second piece, and we wrapped the rest for my breakfast.
Then we went to the bedroom to work off the pizza – sort of a victory lap – and pack for our trip.