small talk

     “Did you know Malcolm well?”

     “My sister was married to him for fifteen years, and we are very close, so naturally I knew him. I wouldn’t say ‘well’—we are both very private people. But he was very welcoming to me over the years. I was sorry to hear he had died. I came over on the first boat the next morning.”

       “Where do you live?”

       “You could say I’m based in Providence. I travel a great deal for work.” He put his glass down and scratched his wrist.

        “What kind of work do you do?”

       “I’m a salesman—a very high level, world travelling salesman.”

        “What do you sell?”

        He smiled. “Pharmaceuticals.”

        She sipped her wine. Better back off. “How utterly fascinating,” she said. “What do you think of our little corner of the world?”

       “I haven’t seen very much of it, really. Maybe you could show me around,” he said with a wink.

     “Yes, I can see you are a salesman,” said Merideth tartly. “I don’t give island tours, but you are welcome to come by and see my garden sometime. Not that anything much is in bloom yet.” She took another tiny sip and put her glass down on the table next to his. “I must speak to your sister.”

     “A pleasure to meet you, Merideth. I will certainly come and tour your garden while I’m here.”

      “Are you staying a while?”

      “I will stay with my sister as long as she needs me. Until this business is wrapped up.” He scratched his wrist again.

      A peculiar way to put the death of his brother-in-law, thought Merideth, as she shook his hand and moved off indoors.