Jonas helped Lena down from the wagon, his hand steady at her elbow. Store's just there. I need to stop by the blacksmith, but Ruthie and Samuel can help you get what we need. All right. Lena smoothed down her skirts.
Another borrowed dress of Jonas's late wife, altered to fit her frame. She'd protested at first, but Jonas had insisted. Can't have you wearing the same dress every day, he'd said. Sarah would want them used, not gathering dust. They entered the general store together, the bell above the door announcing their arrival.
The proprietor, a round-faced man named Mr. Hutchins, looked up from his ledger and smiled. Morning, Jonas, and Miss He faltered, clearly unsure what to call Lena. Miss Crowell, Jonas supplied. She's helping with the children.
Ah, Mr. Hutchins' smile widened. Well, that's wonderful. Lord knows you needed an extra pair of hands out there. They gathered their supplies, flour, sugar, salt, fabric for new shirts for the boys who were growing like weeds.
Lena was examining a bolt of blue calico when she heard the door open behind her. Well, well, if it isn't the woman Thomas Reddick threw back. The voice was female, sharp-edged with false sweetness. Lena turned to find a woman in her late 30s, dressed in clothes a shade too fine for a Saturday morning in Millbrook. Her hair was elaborately curled, her lips painted red, and her eyes held the calculating gleam of someone who trafficked in other people's misfortunes.
Mrs. Talbot, Mr. Hutchins said, his friendly tone noticeably cooler. What can I do for you? Oh, I'm just looking.
Mrs. Talbot's gaze never left Lena. But I couldn't help noticing Jonas Hale's wagon outside, and here I find you, Miss Crowell, playing house with a widower and his brood. Lena's spine stiffened. I'm helping Mr.
Hale with his children. There's nothing improper about it. Oh, I'm sure there isn't. Mrs. Talbot's smile was all teeth.
After all, what impropriety could there be in a divorced woman living alone with a man? Why, it's practically a church social. Heat flooded Lena's face. Across the store, she saw Ruthie and Samuel freeze, their eyes wide. That's enough, Constance, Mr.
Hutchins said sharply. Miss Crowell is a customer, and I'll thank you to speak civilly in my store. I'm only stating facts, Herbert, facts that the whole town will be discussing soon enough. Mrs. Talbot examined her gloves with exaggerated interest.
After all, it's quite the coincidence, isn't it? A desperate woman shows up claiming Thomas rejected her, and next thing we know, she's installed herself in another man's home. One has to wonder about the What's the word? Opportunism of it all. You don't know what you're talking about, Lena said, her voice shaking with suppressed anger.