When Jerry finally came in, it seemed almost an anti-climax. He greeted her with a smile and a casual, “Good morning, Bonnie. Ready to get rid of the ninety-pound anchor today?”
She nodded, taking care to avoid meeting his eyes. “Yes, I think so. It has gotten pretty heavy and this past week, it’s been itching under there like a zillion mosquito bites, too.”
He rummaged in a cupboard, then settled onto a stool at her feet, holding a machine that looked like something from a woodworker’s shop, some sort of grinder or portable saw. When he pushed the switch, it started with a roar. Bonnie jumped.
Jerry grinned at her. “Hey, not to worry. This won’t hurt even if it hits your skin. It cuts by vibration, see?” To demonstrate, he put the blade against his palm, where it barely left a red line
