An answer to the challenge posed by JZ.
A LITTLE TALK
by
Owlcroft
Hardcastle waited impatiently for McCormick to stroll back up the driveway, mail in hand. A scowl was engraved on his slightly reddened face and his hands were firmly in his jeans pockets, as though to keep him from doing anything he might later regret.
"Hey, here's something from the LAPD," called McCormick, waving the manila envelope at him.
"Get over here, wise guy," growled the judge. "I got a few things to say to you."
Mark grinned at him and continued sorting the mail as he walked. "Coupla bills, a flyer from the meat market, junk mail." He lifted his gaze to the judge for a moment. "I'll take that. If we didn't get junk mail, I wouldn't get any mail at all."
The judge breathed heavily and reached to snatch the mail away, but McCormick danced back out of reach.
"Okay, listen," Hardcastle assumed a patently false smile, "I know you had a great time while the aunts were here, and you helped out a lot by taking them around and showing them the sights and all. But the fun's over," he suddenly shifted into shout mode, "and there's chores to be done and no more lollygagging around! You hear?!"
Mark stuck the pinky of his free hand in his ear and wiggled it gently. "I think people in Oregon heard it, Judge."
"So get started on the weeding out back, and I want those driveway hedges trimmed before supper!" The older man waved a hand at the hedges. "And we're gonna get back to normal around here, you got that? No more taking the day off, no more lounging around when there's work to be done, no more cookies in the afternoon when you oughta be doing your chores! You've had a mighty soft ride the last few weeks while the aunts were here but now --"
"I really like your aunts," said Mark quietly. He smiled in a wistful manner and looked out over the ocean. "You're awfully lucky." He handed over the mail and walked past the silenced judge toward the garage.
Hardcastle looked down at the envelopes and circulars he held, wavered for a moment, then followed McCormick to the garage, where he found the younger man looking for his work gloves. "Yeah," he said after nearly a minute, "I guess I am."
McCormick turned to him. "I'm gonna do the hedges first, okay? I figure then I can sweep all the cut-off bits back to where I pitch the weeds."
The judge nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that makes sense." He idly studied the envelope on top of the pile he held. "No hurry."
"No hurry?" Mark was extravagantly astounded. "I thought all those chores had to be done right now to catch up with all my lollygagging."
Hardcastle sniffed and scrubbed at his chin with his free hand. "Well, I just remembered they left some of the cherry cake they made and it's got that cream cheese frosting. That stuff doesn't keep, ya know. Maybe we oughta finish it up and then get to our chores."
McCormick shook his head in a big show of reluctance. "I don't know, Judge. Those hedges are looking pretty ratty. Maybe I should just have my share of the cake when I'm done . . . after dark . . .around midnight." He peeped up slyly from under his brows.
"Suit yourself," shrugged the judge. "I'm gonna go have cake. And some coffee. You'd rather trim hedges, that's fine with me."
Mark dropped the clippers and ran to catch up with him, reaching the back door just as Hardcastle did. "Nah, you talked me into it. But I promise I'll get the hedges done before supper, okay? And I'll take care of the weeds first thing tomorrow morning." He went to the fridge, then turned back to the judge. "You sure you want coffee with that? I'm gonna have milk."
"Coffee for me." Hardcastle paused fractionally in his coffee preparations, then asked in an idle way, "So, you got any aunts?"
McCormick shut the refrigerator door, milk jug in hand. "I do now," he smiled.
finis