Saturday night at Big Joe’s with Fred on Lake Huron

I finished off the best pizza I’d had in three years. Again, I questioned what the nearby trees might be that looked in July as if they were only now discovering spring time weather. A nine hole golf course lay in front of me. The chatty realtor and her husband at the table next to me gave me her card, saying she hoped we could meet when they visited Monterey next year on their 40th wedding anniversary. If they didn’t go to Ireland.

The young server, the one who apologized as she seated me, explained she was too young to be allowed to touch the beer bottles on the next table, asked if I had seen anyone in the golf shop near where I sat. She indicated something had gone missing while we had all been chatting. Now she was in detective mode. I said no but possibly the other customers had and away she went to find them before they left the parking lot.

I’d had enough drama for one day via email and text. I was not searching for any more in real time. The restaurant’s floors sagged unevenly as I walked across them. When I asked the building’s age, the server said she didn’t know but the previous owners had abandoned the place, leaving food in the oven. Perhaps ghosts now had returned to acquire whatever the current owners had found missing while I and the other guests dined.

Now to find a place for the night.

Brilliant and turquoise, Lake Huron called me to spend more time staring at it than I had planned. The 1950’s still operated along the coast. Old miniature and charming wooden…