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(back to page 5)
"There used to be a few, but not anymore. If you don't mind me asking, how on earth did you hear about the old Woodbound all the way up there in Chicago?"
"My doctor gave me a brochure, but obviously it was a little out-of-date. Thanks anyway."
"Hold on a second, Mr. Campbell," she said, and called out, "Mildred, close that screen door, you're letting the flies in. "I'm sorry, Mr. Campbell. What kind of place were you looking for?"
"Just somewhere to spend a couple of months this winter, get out of the cold weather for a while. I have a little lung problem."
"Oh, dear. That's not good."
"No. My doctor said I needed to get out of Chicago as soon as possible."
"I can understand that. I'll bet it's cold up there."
"Yes," he said, trying not to be rude but also wanting to hang up. This call was probably expensive. But Mrs. Cleverdon continued talking. "Well, it's hot down here. We just had to open the windows and turn all the fans on. Oh. Hold on. Mr. Campbell, I've got to go close that door...."
While he was waiting, he could actually hear the sounds of birds chirping in the background over long distance. It must be some of those d amn whip-poor-wills, he thought, and they were costing him money.
Frances picked up the phone again. "Here I am, Mr. Campbell. Now, would this be a place for you and your wife or just you?"
"Just me."
"Have you tried anywhere else?"
"No. I wanted to try there first, it sounded like a nice place. Oh well, thanks anyway."
"Mr. Campbell. Wait a minute. Give me your number. Let me see if I can come up with something for you."
He gave her his number just to get her to hang up. What a crazy place. Evidently they would just talk the head off of any stranger that happened to call.
Mildred came back in the kitchen after putting flowers on the two long tables in the other room. "Who were you on the phone with so long?"
"Some poor man from Chicago with bad lungs who needs a place for the winter. His doctor had given him a brochure for that old hotel, and he thought he might want to come here." She walked over and pulled out the huge coffeepot. "Why did it burn down, I wonder?"
"They say it was rats and matches."
"Oh, lord," said Frances, opening a large dark-brown can of A&P Eight O'Clock coffee. "They'll just chew on anything, won't they?"
Around three o'clock the next afternoon, Oswald was about to pick up the phone and make another call to Florida when it rang. "Hello?"
"Mr. Campbell, this is Frances Cleverdon, the lady you spoke to in Alabama yesterday. Do you remember me?"
"Yes, of course."
"Listen, have you found a place yet?"
"No, not yet, not one I can afford, anyway."
"Yes. Well, if you still have a mind to come down here, I think I found a place for you. We have a very nice lady next door to me, and she said she would be happy to rent you a room for however long you want it."
"Huh," said Oswald. "How much do you think she would charge?"
"She told me that fifty dollars a week would suit her just fine, if that was all right with you. Of course, that would include all your meals. Is that too much?"
Oswald added up his $600-a-month pension, plus the small military medical-discharge check from the government, and figured he could handle it. The places in Florida he called had been double and triple that amount.
"No, that rate sounds fine to me. When would it be available?"
"Betty said for you to just come on anytime, the sooner the better; the river is so pretty this time of year. But now, Mr. Campbell, before you decide on anything, I need to warn you. We are just a small place down here, all we have is one grocery store and a post office, but if it's warm weather and peace and quiet you want, I can guarantee you'll get plenty of that."
"Sounds good to me," he lied. He couldn't think of anything worse, but the price was right. He figured he should probably grab it before they changed their minds.
"Well, all right then," she said. "Just call me back and let me know when you're coming, and we'll have somebody pick you up."
"OK."
(continued on the next page)
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