Tampico (James A. Michener Fiction Series) - Plot & Excerpts
It was early evening, no stars yet, and Gino could see the car in gravel near the porch and lights in a few windows, and then he saw a figure on the porch, carrying something and heading down the steps and toward the cliff, and he thought it must be Arthur. He looked over at the lighthouse. It was darkening in dusty shadows, and the structures and vehicles at its base were coming under shadow too, losing definition, and he could see the glowing string of night lights swelling up in the darkness at the perimeter. He heard the engine faintly in the sky then, one of the small Cessnas out of Provincetown. That’ll be the seven-o-five to Boston, he thought, connections to New York and Philadelphia. He knew all the schedules, and he knew it was a foolishness to know them, but it was something to do, though he was getting sick of it all, this doing something that was nothing. “Yoo-hoo.” It was that bugger Larry, farting around again, and Gino thought he wouldn’t turn, but then he did, his pipe between his teeth, and looked at the two of them.
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