Fit to Die Read Online Free PDF

you like it?”
    “Like it?” The woman panted. “It’s an abomination! This town has a two-hundred-year-old history of Southern architecture and then you come along and build this … this …” She sucked in a great breath. “Atrocity!”
    Willy remained nonplussed. “Yes, ma’am. It is different. But you can’t get upset with me until you’ve tried one of my special praline caramel kiss sundaes. Come on in and you might feel a little friendlier toward the world at large once you’ve had a taste. I’m Willy, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.
    “I am Savannah Lowndes, President of the Shenandoah County Historical Society,” the woman snapped while ignoring Willy’s outstretched hand. “And I’d rather see this place burn to a cinder than consume anything that came from inside such a despicable eyesore!”
    “Suit yourself, ma’am.” Willy shrugged. “Not everybody’s got a sweet tooth. How about the rest of you? I’ve got some coupons for next weekend’s Grand Opening, too.”
    “We’d love to!” Lucy exclaimed and they turned to follow Willy inside. Savannah Lowndes snorted and climbed back into her car. She raced out of the parking lot, her face clouded with anger.
    Suddenly a peppy voice that sounded all too familiar to James hailed the group. “Hi there! I hope you all enjoy your ice cream!” Veronica Levitt called from outside her storefront, which was four stores down from the Polar Pagoda. “I expect to see you all here next Saturday. And then you,” she wiggled a skinny finger flirtatiously at Willy, “can kiss this precious little group of customers goodbye! If I have my way, they are all going to be lean, lovely, fruit-and-vegetable-eating gods and goddesses by June!”
    “Hmm,” Willy sighed as he held open the front door. A bell tinkled merrily as they entered the ice cream parlor, but Willy’s face had turned grim. “I do believe that woman’s gonna be bad for business.”

Chilly Willy was serving up frozen delights as fast as his two arms would allow. Due to the unusually mild spring night, a long line of townsfolk snaked out the front door of the Polar Pagoda and along the entire length of the strip mall. These animated patrons, having just finished their dinners at home or watching one of the two movies showing at the local theater, studied the colorful cones, cups, and sundaes mounded with candy toppings as their cheerful owners carried them outside. People exchanged waves, offered tastes of their frozen desserts, and chatted with friends as if they were guests at a cocktail party. In fact, the very evening air seemed brimming with a sense of vivacity and friendliness that infected the majority of the population of Quincy’s Gap.
    A band of teenage boys, satiated by extra-large cones of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream and bottles of cold root beer, sat on the curb outside the Polar Pagoda and flirted noisily with any pretty girl who passed by. Preteens propped bicycles against the red wooden walls of the ice cream shop and spoke in high-pitched squeals or giggled in unsuppressed excitement as they attempted to read the board containing the day’s flavor specials.
    After waiting twenty minutes, James Henry finally made it inside the front door. He peered over the heads of the adults standing clustered in front of the counter and was hailed by Willy as if he were a long-lost friend.
    “Hello there, Mr. Henry!” Willy’s voice boomed. “So glad to see you! Are you here for something sweet to eat?”
    “Absolutely.” James returned Willy’s warm smile. “It sure looks like you’re having a successful Grand Opening,” he observed pleasantly, fascinated by the manner in which Willy was folding a glob of gummy bears into a slab of white ice cream using two tools resembling spackling knives.
    “Sure am, my man. It’s ’cause of this fine March evening and my even finer homemade frozen custard. This here is Sweet Cream mixed with Gummy Bears, red hots, and