Then Clare said pleasantly, "The Walker children are wellfed in school in good health and being raised by a devoted father who works from before sunrise. I'm grateful to be useful to them." She picked up her packages. "Have a good morning." She walked out.
She was three steps down the porch when she heard the murmur start up behind her through the store's front wall. She kept walking, but her hands were gripped more tightly on the packages than necessary, and she did not let go of them until she was past the first curve in the road, out of sight of the town, where she stopped for a moment, and stood very still in the cold morning air. She thought about what the Havford sisters had said, and more important, what they had not said, but had clearly implied. The town was building its own narrative about her presence in the Walker House. Whether Witmore was feeding that narrative or it was just the natural function of a small place that needed something to talk about, she couldn't be certain.
But she knew this narratives once started gathered their own momentum. She needed to be careful. Not because she had anything to be ashamed of, but because her reputation, and more critically, the Walker family's reputation was a thing that existed in the opinion of other people. And other people in this town were being managed by forces. She was only beginning to understand.
She walked back up the mountain. She told Thomas what had been said when he came in that evening. He listened without interrupting, which was his way, and when she finished, he was quiet for a moment. "Margaret Haverford's been trying to get me to call on her widowed niece since Eleanor was 3 months gone," he said flatly. "Take what she says with appropriate salt."
Despite everything, Clare laughed. Thomas almost smiled. "But you're right," he said more soberly. "We need to be careful. Whitmore's got friends in this town.
He's got something else, too," Clare said. She paused. She had been sitting with this for 2 days before deciding to say it. "I heard from Ruth Hadley, who heard from the minister's wife that a family has been inquiring about the children." Thomas went very still.
"What family?" He said. It wasn't a question. It was the flat contained tone of a man keeping himself very controlled. Elellanor's cousin, Clare said.
Harriet, the one in Denver. Thomas set his coffee cup down. Harriet Mercer, he said. Eleanor's cousin. Haven't seen her in 4 years.
She came to the funeral and left the next day. His voice was entirely level in a way that required effort. What is she saying? She's saying the children would be better provided for, Clare said. In Denver with family.
Thomas was completely still. She's Eleanor's blood, Clare said quietly. That gives her standing to raise a question, especially if someone else is suggesting to her that there's reason to raise it. Thomas looked at her. Whitmore, he said.