The car pulled up in front of the sign that said, “Fly Tying Love Center.”
Marvin lifted the magnifying lenses above his head and got up from his fly-tying bench and walked to the front room. He looked out the window at the woman staring at his sign.
“Do you know her, Marge?”
“Mrs. Richardson. Ardis’s mom. She might have a first name but I don’t know what it is.”
Mrs. Richardson was admitted and smiled.
“Do love flies work for people my age?” she asked. “Because if they’re just for kids, it won’t do me any good, will it? Well, I was saying to Ardis just this morning, if you think a love fly will help me find a guy, maybe I should go over and see Marvin Pincus, that’s what I told her and she said, ‘Mother, that’s a good idea. I know Marvin and Marjorie and they’re really nice people.’ Now wasn’t that nice of her to say that? Of course it was. Well, Marvin, may I call you Marvin? Good. Well, Marvin, you see, ever since I lost Mr. Richardson … he passed about 10 years ago now. You might have known him, worked down at the water company, and he was one of their best employees, too. Well, ever since he passed, I’ve been kind of lonely, you know? Of course you do. That’s how you can help all these people with the love flies. So will you tie one for me? I was hoping you would. Where do you want me to sit?”
Marvin pointed to the green easy chair in the consulting room/fly tying parlor and excused himself for a minute to retrieve something from the laundry room. Then he came back in and sat at his vise and began tying a larger than usual fly.
“… certainly I have Ardis, but she wants to have her own life, too, you know. You know those young folks, right? So here I am, ready to find someone and get your advice on finding the right man and getting that lucky love fly. I’ve heard you have done really well with other people, and this is really exciting for me. You don’t talk much, do you? Well, that’s not necessarily bad. Mr. Richardson didn’t talk much, either. Sometimes he’d leave me little notes when he left for work, but when he was home he was awfully quiet. Talked with Ardis a lot, though. Never could figure that out. Men are strange, aren’t they?”
Marvin held his hand up for silence, then handed her what look like a large bass bug tied on a wooden clothespin.
“That looks like a wooden clothespin…”
“It is,” Marvin said, holding up his hand for silence again. “My sincere advice to you, Mrs. Richardson, is when you meet a good man, clip this fly to your ear lobe and it’ll remind you to just smile and not say anything.”
Brought to you by Home Country (the book). Read a free sample at www.slimrandles.com.
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