What kind of fruit trees survive winter

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What kind of fruit trees survive winter in Florida?"

I had to think. "Pineapple? I think so. But I can't be sure. Maybe banana or mango. I can't remember."

"How do I look?" He tilted his head this way and that. "I like the sweater you've got on. It's kind of a plaid. What's it from?"

"Well, you're not wearing anything. You look good." I was happy he wasn't worried. I'd be a wreck otherwise. Or maybe I'd just be really happy. "What do you think?"

"I think you're a beautiful woman, a beautiful woman." He ran his fingers through my hair, combing it. His fingers were strong, his hands big, with long fingers and big knuckles. I could feel my skin tingle.

I was glad he didn't try to pull me into the chair like he'd done in the car. I was too fragile to withstand it. He gave me the softest, sweetest kiss. My hands were on his chest. I'd forgotten I'd ever held a man. He smelled like mint.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Beverly Hills." I was ready to tell him I was on the way out, but he was here now. And I needed to live a little. "Why did you turn the lights out?"

"Because we're in someone else's house," he said, "and I don't want the cops to get curious. I don't know what you're doing, but I don't want the police to show up."

"I won't tell them about you." I didn't know whether I was afraid they'd try to arrest him for me, or that I'd feel too guilty to tell them anything.

"Good. When I saw you getting into the car, I was so sad I almost cried."

I felt better now that he wasn't mad at me. "Why did you cry?"

"I couldn't believe you were going home. I was so afraid I was going to lose you. When we passed the cemetery, I thought I'd die. Then you turned up again."

I was too weak to walk, so I held on to him as we left the house and got into the car. The last person I'd expected to see was the guy with the long fingers. His smile was as sweet as you'd expect from someone like that. He was tall, and the way his head sat on his neck made him look graceful. I hoped I would never see a guy like him again. I wished he'd told me his name.

"So what's your name?" he asked as he started the car.

"It's Lili. What's yours?"

"My name is John. My friends call me Coop."

"That's what I thought you were called. I don't like short men. Short men are always trouble."

He laughed and shook his head. "You know, I don't care if you like me or not. I care about you."

"But you're a thief. I'm sure you want to get caught, and I'm not going to get you into trouble."

"I would never get you into trouble. Trust me, Lili. I promise."

"What happened to your hands?" I was going to say that it was because he was a thief, but I wasn't going to say anything about the accident because he might get mad.

He looked down at his hands. "I broke them when I was fourteen. It happened when I was hanging up a washing line, and the rope broke. I had to hold on to the house and hang from the windows for four hours." He smiled. "It wasn't my fault. I was trying to get away from a runaway horse."

I laughed. I remembered when I was little and my parents used to make me hold the washing line with him. They would wait until I was asleep and I'd wake up the next day and have dirty hands. "So, what's your plan?"

"My plan is to get you out of that place as soon as possible. I have a plan for you, too."

"So where are we going?"

"We're going to the house where I know someone who can help us."

We drove in silence for a while. I was worried about where we were going and what we would find. I also felt sorry for this strange man, the way he was being treated by his mother. It seemed that no one loved him. He had a lot of sadness in his eyes, and he needed to be loved. I knew that I would help him, but I didn't know how. I would have to think about it later.

We arrived at the old lady's house, and it was strange to think she lived in that big, old wooden house with no walls. There were windows everywhere. There were two big white rocking chairs sitting on the verandah, and several plants were growing in pots on the verandah. I didn't know that someone could plant a garden just by rocking a chair back and forth. It was hard to imagine.

We got out of the car. The house was beautiful, it seemed to have everything. There were big, wide wooden doors, but they were locked. Someone had put up a sign that said _Closed for repairs._ "What are you doing?" I asked him.

"I'm going to get some things." He disappeared into the small shed next to the house, and I waited for him. He was a very quiet man. It made me wonder what was wrong with him. There were no toys around, and all the furniture was old and dirty. The old man put an old cloth bag in my hands, and I didn't understand why.

He walked back to the car, and we were ready to go again. I watched as he drove back to the town. He had a look on his face that made me wonder if he would be all right. He was quiet and his face was sad. It was a nice change to meet someone who was different.

We arrived back at the hotel and I felt hungry again. We went down to the restaurant, and he helped me with my meal. The next day, we went to the police station to find out where they had the police band where the lady's car was. It was not easy to get into the building because it was locked. The old man came in with us, and when we were standing in the police station, he turned to me and said, "I've never been in a place like this before."

The police sergeant introduced himself. "Would you like to register your license plate number, sir?" he asked.

"Can I register it in English?" he asked.

"Sure. We have lots of people here, and some speak English. Why don't you register it in your language and I will be able to check it for you?"

I was happy he was trying to help. "No," he said. "I am registered, and I don't have any cars with me."

The police sergeant smiled. "Well, sir, we don't get many of these kinds of customers around here. Do you happen to know the name of your new friend?"

"Yes. His name is Mr. Ollie."

"Okay, Mr. Ollie. What's your name?"


"Is that your full name or just your

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