The Quintessence of Quick (The Jack Mason Saga) Read Online Free PDF Page B

burg’s weird little name more exposure than it’s had since they hacked it out of the woods. I swear, if he could play guitar they’d elect him to congress.”
    “Sounds like he could be going places, at least for ‘a man from Bisque.’ Does Cordelia go to the races with him?”
    “Now and then, to the big ones; Daytona, of course, and Darlington, where the parties run a strong second to the race itself. Otherwise, she’s content to let Buster hit the road with his crew, which is much the better thing from a racing point of view. You’ll understand when you meet her. She may be on the shady side of forty, but she still looks good enough to be a major distraction in the pits.”
    Linda chuckled, the way she sometimes did in bed. “She sounds like quite a lady.”
    “I expect that even she’d say that’s a stretch,” Jack said with the faintest of smiles. “Still and all, she’s my mom’s best friend. Here in Bisque, anyway.”
    “Why don’t we have her out for drinks one day? I’m sure that she’s as curious about the ‘older woman’ that you brought home as you’ve made me about her.”
    “Good idea, but they’ll want to have us over to the home place, you being the visitor and all. Hell, she may want to give you a party. You’re at least as much of an attraction as a visiting preacher or a college football recruiter. Let’s just run by there after we stop off at the Terrells; if her car’s in the driveway, we could just duck in for a minute and say ‘hey’.”
    “Why not?” she said. “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
    Turning off the highway just before it became one of Bisque’s principal streets, Jack headed east toward the Terrell’s house, which was in one of the not-so-new-anymore neighborhoods that had sprung up in the “stylish” south side of town on the heels of World War II. Mature trees, still wintry skeletons, would be shading its streets by Easter, and soon its driveways would host tricycles and plastic detritus belonging to the children of second and third-hand homeowners. The Terrells, who had built their home and raised Rick in it, were part of a small but sturdy minority who saw no need to “trade up.”
    “This won’t take long,” Jack said. “Miz Terrell wouldn’t hear of us not dropping by, even though Rick won’t be here ’til next week.”
    “Well, don’t feel like you have to rush on my account,” said Linda. “Since her boy’s not here, she’s gonna want to mother you a little, particularly since yours isn’t around.”
    “Bingo. Been doing it for years.”
    A smiling Melinda Terrell, middle age settled comfortably on her shoulders, opened the door before Jack could knock, and enveloped him immediately in a hug. “Jack!”
    “Hey, Miz Terrell, how you doin’?”
    “Much better, now that I’m seeing you again, boy.” she said, smiling at Linda over Jack’s shoulder. Dropping half the hug, she offered her hand to Linda without releasing him. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Melinda Terrell.”
    “Linda Green,” Linda said, returning the smile as she took her hand.
    “It’s so nice to meet you, Linda. We almost ended up with the same name! Please, come in.”
    Ushering them into the den in which Jack felt he’d spent half his life, Melinda said, “Richard won’t be here ’til about one. I know he’d love to see you, but he’s out working an open debit, so I can’t even guarantee he’ll be back by one. And if I know him, he’ll be grabbing a sandwich at Tubby’s. Are y’all going some place for lunch? I could fix you a BLT in two shakes.”
    Sensing an underlying nervousness that was not at all typical of his friend’s mother, Jack said, “Oh, no, thanks; we had a late breakfast, and a pretty heavy one at that. But that coffee sure smells good, as usual.”
    Having brought a tray of coffee and cookies, Melinda sat on the edge of her husband’s Barcalounger. “I hope you’re going to enjoy your stay in our little town,