Page 55 of Searching for Bristol
“Which still wouldn’t be as old as me,” Art said.
“How oldareyou?” Bristol couldn’t help asking.
“Ninety-one,” the older man said proudly.
“Wow. What’s the secret?”
“Stubbornness,” Silas answered for Art.
“In that case,youshould live to be a hundred and fifty,” Art returned.
Bristol loved hearing their banter. It was obvious the men cared about each other, even if they sniped a lot.
“You remind me a little bit of my granddaughter,” Art said after a moment.
“Yeah?” Bristol asked. This she had to hear.
“Uh-huh. Although you’re a tiny thing compared to her. She’s tall, almost six feet. And strong. You look like a stiff wind would blow you over. She’s a firefighter in New York City. Just the other day she had to walk up thirty-four floors to get to a fire in one of them high-rise buildings. Carrying forty pounds of equipment while she was at it.”
Bristol couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing again. “She doesn’t soundanythinglike me,” she said when she could talk again.
Art was smiling as he shrugged. “She’s tough. Like you.”
Bristol couldn’t deny that felt good. Although she wasn’t sure she’d hold a candle to a firefighter in a big city.
“She’s a good girl,” Art continued. “Her mom, my daughter, didn’t do right by her, and the best times in our lives were when she spent the summers with me. But she didn’t let anything get her down. As soon as she graduated high school, she fled to the city and has showed all them men what she’s made of.”
“Is she married?” Bristol asked, intrigued.
“She was. But things didn’t work out and they went their separate ways.”
She nodded, kind of at a loss as to what to say next.
“Anyway, maybe you guys can meet one day. She comes to visit me sometimes.”
“It’s been a while,” Silas said.
“I know,” Art said sadly. “But she’s busy.”
“Shouldn’t be too busy for family,” Otto said softly.
It was obvious all three men missed their loved ones. Bristol was glad they had each other to keep themselves occupied.
Talk changed to the weather. Then to Tony and his award, and how he deserved it after driving his father’s Mercedes all the way down I-480 back to Fallport without wrecking.
By the time she managed to extricate herself from the conversation, Bristol was getting tired and she hadn’t even made it halfway around the square. She crossed Cedar Street and wheeled herself as fast as she could past The Cellar, the local pool hall, which had loud music playing from inside.
Khloe was sitting outside the library by herself. Feeling chagrined that she needed a break already, Bristol stopped to talk to her.
“Isn’t that music annoying to the people visiting the library?” she blurted. Then immediately shook her head. “Sorry, don’t answer that. Hi, Khloe. Nice day, huh? How are you?”
Khloe chuckled and stood. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the chair she’d just vacated.
“What?” Bristol asked.
“Sit. Your leg hurts, I can tell. Take a break for a moment.”
“But what about you?” Bristol asked.
