Flim-Flam Man

"Ever been bitten by a dog?" She eyed the stranger with his hand on the gate latch. A salesman he looked to be. Cheap suit, shoes run over at the heels, eyes that wouldn't look at you straight on.

"Ella Mae, you know I like dogs, specially big ones." The voice flipped her brain back and back and back until there was a big click. 

"Marshall, Marshall Henson. What are you doing round her? We thought you was in jail or dead or living in Los Angeles." She stepped forward and almost touched his sleeve but pulled back at the last moment. What if it wasn't Marshall at all. What if he was some flim-flam man trying to take advantage of an old woman living alone. But then she looked straight on into his eyes, blue as a marble and knew it was him for sure. "Well, don't just stand there for heaven's sakes. Come on in." 

"Don't mind if I do, Ella Mae. You wouldn't by any chance have some sweet tea in the refrigerator." 

"No I don't but I've got Dr. Pepper or ice water." She turned and headed up the walk. Marshall followed behind. 

The old house looked bout the same, except, like everyone and all things, older and in need of a little touch-up. Probably Henry was gone to his maker since most women in these parts outlived their men. Ella Mae looked in pretty good health though that purple pants suit didn't suit her too much. She was a real looker in their day. The first one to be asked to the prom and the last one to leave the dance floor. 

(to be continued)