She put on a pot of coffee and packed a small suitcase and Cleo’s leash and dog food. Davison came out of his room with his Salvation Army clothes in the same plastic bag he’d brought them home in. For some reason, that wrinkled grocery bag brought the ache back to Branigan’s chest. She grabbed a soft-sided overnight bag in a Burberry plaid from the guest room closet, and tossed it to him. “Dad keeps swim trunks at the beach house,” she told him. “And sunscreen.” He nodded. He’d been asleep when she left each morning, so she hadn’t seen him like this. He seemed subdued, a little shaky. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and dumped in four teaspoons of sugar. Then he put two Pop-tarts in the toaster. He noticed her noticing, and grimaced. “I know. Why don’t I just hook up the sugar IV?” He shrugged. “It helps. A little.” “Whatever,” she said. “I want one of those Pop-tarts too.” They ate silently at the kitchen island, passing sections of The Rambler back and forth.
What do You think about The Cantaloupe Thief (2016)?
