“You’d be wise to.”
As the mare scuffed off down the road, amid a cloud of dust, Lucy entered the store.
A stuffy odor of coffee, molasses, and calico greeted her; so, too, did Elias Barnes, who came forward from behind the counter, extending his damp and sticky palm and showing every tooth that an expansive smile permitted.
“So it’s you, Miss Lucy,” he observed with pleasure. “I was expecting to see your aunt. She was here the other day.”
“Yes, she drove to town last Friday.”
“Came on an interestin’ errand, too,” chirped Elias. “Leastwise, I ’magine ’twas interestin’ to you.” He grinned slyly.
“Why?”
“Why?” repeated the man, taken aback. “Because—well, ain’t such things always interestin’?”
“What things?”