Chapter 6As Frank slipped his key into the ignition, the front door opened and Olive bustled out. She carried a covered casserole dish, scolding him about leaving it behind as he climbed back out of the Suburban to take it. He hadn’t forgotten it. He’d left it on purpose. Jay was accumulating more food in his fridge than any two men could eat. And it wasn’t like the man couldn’t cook. But every time Frank had gone over to Jay’s house to hang out for the past week, Olive had buried him with food.
Jay joked it off. “I’m a single male in a town full of busybodies. Of course, all the old hens want to take care of me.”
Frank didn’t understand the single part, or the tolerance part, for that matter. The more time he spent with Jay, the more he witnessed others dismissing the man. Running into
