A crowd had gathered at the counter of the diner leaning over Doc Martin’s shoulder mostly. He mumbled how narrow the road gets winding the bluffs, pointing to it on the map. Dangerous in a storm. Someone had to get up there soon but there were no volunteers. A good reason maybe. Never been anybody harder to get along with than old Fletcher and his wife.

Jamie owned the diner. He bent over the counter looking Doc Martin square in the eyes.

“Whose going up there to get that stubborn old woman Doc? "

He pretended not to hear him. The diner was buzzing. The rain had started. Wasn’t hard.

“Look.”
Nodding his head toward the diner windows.

It was getting darker by the minute. Doc stood his ground. He couldn’t let Jamie win this one. Widow Fletcher didn’t like asking for help anymore than her husband. Rarely came down out of those bluffs since he died. Just then the diner door flung open. A small figure dripping wet stood in the door. You could hear a pin drop.

“Well I’ll be damned.”