Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 18

I gazed at the sky as Jason and I drove north on 495, heading for Haverhill. It was the day of my monthly writing group meeting, and Jason had chivalrously offered to drive me the hour each way so we could spend some time together. He had a park he wanted to visit in the area, so it was a good excuse for him to get out of his typical neck of the woods.

"Look at those blues," I stated, my eyes tracing the various shades. "What would you call that?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. "Sky blue," he grinned.

I gave him a swat. "You can't describe a sky as being sky blue, that's cheating," I teased him. "How about robin's egg blue?"

He gave it thought. "I think robin's egg blue is creamier, perhaps warmer," he stated. "That is decidedly a cool, pale blue."

I looked to the right. "And then, over there, we have a darker, richer blue. I've given up on knowing what to call that. Kathy, my poet friend, calls that Maxfield Parrish blue. But even that seems like a cheat, to simply reference an artist who tends to use the color a lot. Surely, though, the color has a real name. Something in nature should be that color other than the sky of course."

He nudged his head at another portion of the sky. "That over there might seem like a Caribbean Sea blue."

"I suppose that's true," I agreed. "So now we're calling sky the color of water. What's next, calling a light-colored water sky blue?"

He chuckled. "Being a writer is complicated stuff; my life is much easier. I head out into the woods and look for deer tracks. You see the tracks, you know they were made by a deer, and that's that."

I grinned. "I think you're simplifying things a bit," I teased. "You're able to tell which are turkey tail mushrooms, you know which tracks go with which animals, and if we ever got lost, I know you'd be able to find us a way out."

His eyes came to meet mine for a moment. "I'm honored you have so much faith in me."

"I do," I agreed, and meant it with all my heart.

Minutes eased by in a comfortable silence as the sky drifted from sky blue to ice blue to Caribbean Sea blue in a veil of light grey clouds. Soon we were pulling off the River Street exit, and he was dropping me off at the entrance to the 99 Restaurant.

He gave me a nod. "I'll be back at six, then?"

"That sounds great." I gave him a wave. "Just call my cell if you end up running into traffic or something. I've got books to read, so I'll be fine."

"Have fun," he called, and then I was heading inside.

I shook my head as I moved through their lobby area. Now they'd installed a TV even in this small waiting area. It seemed as if bars and restaurants were installing TVs in every corner of their building, as if patrons couldn't possibly survive without a television signal for more than five seconds. Whatever happened to allowing imagination a fertile place to grow, or, God forbid, an actual conversation?

The next door opened into the restaurant proper, and I glanced to the left. Our habitual booth was already opened up into a double-wide layout, and Anne sat at the table, munching on a bowl of popcorn. I smiled and headed down to sit down across from her.

"Good day," I greeted, laying down a copy of my literary magazine. "Here's the latest issue for you to look through, if you'd like."

She picked it up eagerly, and paged through the poems, photos, and stories. I gave the popcorn a gentle push so it was a bit further from me. It was bad enough that I ate it sometimes, but it wasn't even that good. It was fairly stale with a hint of chemical sharpness.