Thomas Prescott Superpack Read Online Free PDF

the sunset.” She laughed. “Well not see, literally.”
    I laughed with her. Lacy was taking her blindness in stride. If you weren’t the wiser, you’d never suspect Lacy’s almost teal eyes served only for decoration. Lacy had Multiple Sclerosis and her current acute exacerbation, better known as an attack, relapse, or flare, was temporary blindness. According to the doctor, Lacy’s condition was due to an inflammation of her optic nerve. He said this usually clears in four to twelve weeks. It’d been eight weeks since the lights went out for Lace. I prayed every night she would open her eyes and the world would be staring back.
    I replied to her painting question, “Sounds good. By the way I’m rowing with your boy-toy in the morning.”
    “That’s what I heard. I’m glad you and Conner still hang out even though you and Caitlin broke up.”
    Conner was Caitlin’s little brother. Caitlin and I had been the ones to hook-up the two of them. “Speaking of Caitlin, she left a message on my phone this afternoon. She wants to get together for dinner. I’ve been brainstorming excuses for the last hour.”
    “Tell her you went blind, it always works for me.” She snickered at her own wit and said, “Just kidding, I was the one who told her to call you.”
    “What do you mean, ‘You told her to call me?’”
    “I had lunch with her this afternoon and we talked about you guys. It’s usually an off limit topic, but I could see how lonely she was. She really misses you. And God knows you’re too stubborn to call her, even though you’re just as lonely, I might add. The two of you were good. Don’t let another one get away because you’re an idiot.”
    Speaking of which, I wondered if they had Relationships for Idiots . I made a mental note to ask Margery next time I was at The Bookrack.
    Lacy and I grabbed our sandwiches and retired to the living room. The Italian leather couches, wall extended oak entertainment center and plate glass coffee table came with the house for an extra ten grand. Lacy flopped down on one of the tan couches and picked up the remote. If I were a Mariners’ fan, Lacy was a diehard. She’d forced me to buy some digital cable package where you get every baseball game on the planet. (There was even a channel where you could watch little Asian boys play pickle.)
    Lacy found the Mariners’ playoff game, they were down 5-4 in the seventh, and took a third of her sandwich down in one bite. She smiled, revealing one of Angelini’s mammoth meatballs bulging from each cheek.
    I couldn’t help myself and said, “Conner has trained you well.”
     
    Lacy said she was going to bed and I watched her negotiate the stairs flawlessly. I on the other hand, retreated to the back deck for some leisure reading. I wasn’t cold, but I had goose bumps on my arms and threw a couple logs in the outdoor fireplace. (I’d chided Lacy when she’d first purchased the novelty, but it had come to be my favorite addition to the house.)
    The waves washing up thirty yards behind me played lead orchestra to the Surry Breakwater lighthouse’s baritone foghorn.
    I cracked my second copy of Eight in October , the white pages glistened in the moonlight, and I had the eerie feeling the moon was trying to read over my shoulder. I was a half paragraph into Tooms’ description of the third victim when Eight in October reunited with his long lost cousins in the outdoor fireplace. The heart of the book erupted in flames, shimmering the deck in a flaxen glow. I laid back in the chaise lounge, my goose bumps a distant memory.

Chapter 5
     
     
    I woke up as a couple jaundice-riddled fingers of light began to extend from the horizon. The Surry Breakwater lighthouse floated in the fog, its strident warning coming in thirty second intervals.
    I ambled down the deck stairs to the beachfront and did a hundred sit-ups followed by a hundred push-ups, then set off in a brisk trot down the shoreline. The gull to sand grain ratio