Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Cora and Jack strolled along the Sunrise waterfront where the smell of fresh coffee and warm donuts mixed with the crisp sea air.
Cora bit into her glazed donut, savoring the sugary sweetness as they walked past shops that were beginning to open.
She had a brown paper bag filled with extras swinging from her arm, which felt like a guarantee for a good day.
Jack balanced his coffee in one hand and tried to wipe powdered sugar off his jeans with the other. “So, what’s our game plan? Grab some unsuspecting seniors and shake them down for gossip?”
“Please. I’m more subtle than that. We’re going to be casual, make some small talk, and let the information come to us.”
“Ah, the old stand around and look pretty strategy. Good thing I’ve mastered that one.” He struck a mock-heroic pose, puffing out his chest in a way that earned a laugh from Cora and a bewildered glance from a passing jogger.
“You’re impossible,” she said.
As they continued along the waterfront, Cora spotted a familiar group of old men outside the bait shop. They were huddled around a weathered table, its paint chipped and sun-bleached to the color of dried shrimp shells.
The men were playing a loosely defined game of checkers, each holding an old metal cup of coffee.
Their clothes were a mix of flannel and denim that had probably seen decades of use.
They sat in their regular spots as if nothing had changed in years, the air around them buzzing with their lively banter.
Unless a hurricane hit or someone was giving away free beer at the hardware store, they’d be there every weekday morning, as reliable as the tide.
Cora nudged Jack and nodded toward the group. “Change of plans. We’re not hitting the bridge club. We’re going directly to the town’s best source of news.”
Jack squinted at the men, a puzzled look crossing his face. “I thought we were on the hunt for the gossipy ladies?”
“That would have been a rookie mistake,” Cora said. “These gentlemen are the real deal. If there’s dirt to be found, they’ve got it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’re telling me those guys gossip more than the little old ladies?”
“Way more,” she assured him. “They’ve got nothing better to do than drink coffee and talk. No filters, no shame.”
As they approached, Mr. Jenkins held up a checker piece, squinting into the sun. “Hold on, Earl,” he said to the man across from him. “You can’t jump three spaces in one move. What do you think this is, hopscotch?”
Earl scratched his head under his faded Marine Corps cap. Cora had no idea what his name was, or if he even had one. He’d just always been Earl, as far as she knew. “Well, that explains why you’ve been losing all morning,” he said.
Mr. Peterson leaned back in his chair, letting out a raspy laugh. “You two wouldn’t know how to play checkers if the instructions were tattooed on your foreheads.”
Mr. Jenkins looked up as they walked over, a toothy grin spreading across his weathered face. “Well, if it isn’t little Cora Lockwood.”
“Hi, Mr. Jenkins,” Cora said with a genuine smile.
“Long time no see, girl,” Earl chimed in. “We thought maybe you’d forgotten about us.”
“Never,” she replied, warmth blooming in her chest. Even in New York, moments like this were what she missed the most—the friendly faces, the easy banter, and the way people still remembered you even if you hadn’t been around in a while.
“And who’s your boyfriend?” Mr. Peterson asked with a sly wink, his grin as crooked as the bait shop sign that swung above his head.
Cora’s cheeks heated as she stammered, “Oh, he’s not . . . This is Jack. Jack Harlow.”
At that, the men sat up a little straighter.
“Well, I’ll be,” Mr. Jenkins said, tapping a checker against the table. “Jack Harlow. Haven’t seen you since you put that snake in the library book drop.”
Earl cackled. “Or the time you got caught skinny-dipping in the reservoir—with the vice-principal’s daughter, no less. That PTA meeting was legendary.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Allegedly.” A faint flush crept up his cheeks, and he suddenly found the porch floor very interesting.
“Well, the next time you see your granddaddy, you tell him he still owes me a socket wrench. Loaned it to him in ’98. I figure it’s either a family heirloom now or rusted to dust in his garage.”
Jack relaxed a little. “I’ll remind him, but don’t hold your breath.”
“Gentlemen,” Cora said, seizing the moment, “we were just debating if you three are a better source of information than the bridge club ladies.”
The men exchanged amused glances, and Mr. Jenkins puffed out his chest. “We could teach those hens a thing or two about getting the scoop. We’ve got ears everywhere, young lady. We don’t miss a thing.”
Jack chuckled, clearly entertained by the old man’s confidence. “I never would’ve guessed.”
Earl winked at Jack, adjusting his cap. “Stick around, son, and you’ll learn the real art of gossip.
We know who’s having coffee with who, who’s feuding with who, and who got caught sneaking back into their house at two in the morning.
” He shot Cora a knowing look, the same one he used to wear when he caught her tiptoeing home after curfew.
Cora lifted her chin. “For the record, I was at the library. Studying for my earth science final.”
Earl let out a bark of laughter. “In the middle of the night?”
“The rock cycle wasn’t going to memorize itself.”
Jack leaned in, grinning. “Rebel.”
Cora shot him a look. “Some of us didn’t have a standing date in detention, thank you very much.”
“Only on Wednesdays,” Jack replied with a wink.
Cora rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. The old men exchanged a few amused glances, clearly enjoying the show.
Cora took a breath and shifted the conversation back to what they’d come for.
“I’m trying to learn a bit more about Lolly’s history, and I thought it might be good to start with the group that was half in love with her.
” She gave them her sweetest smile. “After all, she always brought you guys coffee and muffins in the morning.” She dropped the paper bag she’d been carrying onto the table.
“Brought you a dozen glazed for old times’ sake. ”
The men’s faces lit up as they eyed the bag.
Mr. Jenkins let out a low whistle. “So, what kind of information are you looking for?”
“I’ve been thinking about Lolly a lot lately,” Cora said softly. “I miss her—her stories, her advice. I was hoping you’d tell me more about her, especially from back in the day.”
Mr. Jenkins wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back, clearly pleased by the request. “Lolly was somethin’ else, that’s for sure. Back in her teenage years, she was the heartthrob of this town. Every fella had his eye on her.”
Earl chuckled. “And why wouldn’t they? Lolly had that spark. She wasn’t just pretty. She was also whip-smart. Always knew how to keep us boys on our toes.”
Mr. Peterson’s grin grew distant as he got lost in a memory.
“There was this one time, during the Miss Sunrise pageant. Lolly must’ve been about seventeen.
When it came time for the talent portion, all the other girls were singing or twirling batons.
But not Lolly. She marched out on stage with a live chicken under one arm and a meat cleaver in the other. ”
Cora and Jack exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“What happened?” Cora asked, both horrified and fascinated.
Mr. Peterson leaned forward, savoring the story.
“She gave a step-by-step demonstration on how to butcher that bird. Half the audience fainted, the other half cheered. Needless to say, she didn’t win, but nearly every man there put her at the top of his list of wife prospects after that.
And that was the last time the town held the pageant. ”
Cora burst out laughing, the image of young Lolly on stage with a chicken and a giant knife too vivid to resist. “That sounds like her. She never cared much for what people thought.”
The men nodded, still chuckling over the story. The easy laughter and warm memories gave Cora the perfect opening to steer the conversation toward Lincoln Harlow.
“So did she end up with a boyfriend after the pageant?” Cora asked, keeping it casual. She glanced at Jack, catching the look of surprised approval he shot her way.
The question shifted the mood slightly. Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat, adjusting on his seat as the laughter faded from his eyes.
“She did, yeah. Lolly had a boyfriend back then.”
The men exchanged quick, meaningful looks. The air was heavier now, the easygoing vibe replaced by something guarded. It was as if they were deciding how much to share. Or how little.
“Who was he?” Cora pressed gently.
Mr. Jenkins hesitated, fiddling with a checker piece. “Just some local boy,” he said vaguely, his tone making it clear he didn’t want to go into details.
Earl nodded too quickly. “Yeah, one of those things. We were all smitten, but Lolly . . . well, she had her pick.”
They avoided eye contact, each suddenly very interested in his coffee or the checkerboard. It was obvious there was more to the story, but Cora decided not to push. Not yet. No need to shut down the conversation completely.
Sensing the need for a change in tone, Jack leaned back, offering a warm smile. “I’d love to hear more of those stories sometime. They keep the memories alive.”
The men relaxed, their expressions softening.
Mr. Peterson spoke up, his voice warm. “Anytime. We might not have much hair left, but we’ve got plenty of stories.”
After a few more tales and a promise to return, Cora and Jack said their goodbyes and started down the boardwalk. The scent of coffee lingered as they left the lively chatter behind.
Jack glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes. “How did you know they’d open up like that? About Lolly?”
Cora shrugged, smiling. “They like to talk,” she said nonchalantly.