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.
Jack raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“Those men treat their stories as if they’re gold,” shecontinued. “They’ve spent years trading tales, and each one is worth something to them. But after a while ...”
“People stop listening,” Jack said, nodding.
“Exactly. Just paying attention to them gets you more than memories. It gets you the good stuff. The stories that aren’t written down.”
Their conversation was cut short by a loud voice. “Cora! Jack! There you are!”
They turned to see Aggie barreling toward them, her oversized purse swinging like a wrecking ball. She took out a potted plant outside the post office and was about to knock over a preschooler until the child’s mom swooped in at the last moment. Aggie was dressed in a vibrant floral dress, an enormous sun hat, and comically large sunglasses that covered half her face.
“Aggie?” Cora said, trying to keep a straight face as she took in her outfit. “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you’re about to rob a retirement home?”
Aggie waved off her question, digging through her purse. “Never mind that. I heard you two were down here collecting stories about Lolly, so I thought I’d lend a hand.” She pulled out a sleek digital recorder.
“Whoa,” Jack said, eyebrows shooting up. “Where did you get that?”
