Faithfully Yours. Lois Richer

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       Chapter Two

      “Why are there two whole shelves of dog food and only one teensy section with tea?” Charity Flowerday muttered, as she hobbled up and down the aisles of Mossbank’s largest grocery store, searching for the ingredients she needed for lunch with her friends. Although why she should have to search for anything was a mystery. She’d lived in this small farming community for almost seventy years. She should know where every single item was kept, she chuckled to herself.

      “Ah, tea.” She ran her finger along the shelf and plucked a package into her cart. “Now, dessert.”

      It was impossible to ignore the young tow-headed boy in the junk-food aisle across from frozen foods. He looked much the way her own son had thirty years ago: freckle-faced, grubby, with a tear in both knees of his filthy jeans and his shirttail hanging out.

      “School not started yet?” she asked in her usual friendly fashion. It wasn’t that she didn’t know. Why, her friend Hope’s niece had been teaching at the local elementary school for almost a month now, and she was well acquainted with the schedule.

      “Buyin’ somethin’ fer my mom,” he muttered, turning his face away and hunching over to peer at the varieties of potato chips currently available. It was obvious that he wasn’t interested in carrying on a conversation. Charity shrugged before turning away to squint at the ice cream labels behind the frosted glass doors.

      “Hmm, all pretty high in fat and cholesterol,” she murmured to herself. Heaven knew women of her age couldn’t afford either one, she thought grimly. “Arthur,” she called loudly, hoping the proprietor would hear her above the roar of the semi truck unloading outside.

      When Art Johnson didn’t immediately appear, she shuffled over to the counter to wait for him. The grubby little boy was there ahead of her clutching a fistful of penny candy.

      “Hello again, young man. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Has your family just moved to Mossbank?” Any newcomer to their fair town was a source of interest for Charity, and she couldn’t help the bristle of curiosity that ran through her. “What’s your name?”

      “Roddy. Roddy Green.”

      “Well, nice to meet you, Roddy. My name is Mrs. Flowerday. I live at the end of Maple Street in that red brick house. Perhaps you’ve noticed it?”

      “Nope.”

      Evidently young Mr. Green didn’t care to know, either, thought Charity with a tiny smile. Kids nowadays were so different. They didn’t bother with all the folderol of petty politeness and such. They just got down to the basics.

      “Where’s the old guy that runs this place?” the boy demanded sullenly, tapping his fingers on the counter. “I haven’t got all day.”

      “Oh, Mr. Johnson often has to stay at the back while they unload the truck,” she explained to him with a smile. “He counts the pieces as they take them off to be sure he receives everything he should. I’m certain he will be here in a moment.”

      “I’m here right now, Charity. Sorry to have kept you waiting. What can I do for you?”

      Arthur Johnson smiled at her the same way he had for the past thirty-five years, and Charity smiled back. He had always been a friendly man who took pleasure in meeting the needs of his customers. When he looked at her like that, his face jovial, his balding head burnished in the autumn sun shining through the window, Charity felt her heart give a quick little patter. He was still such a handsome man.

      “I was here first,” Roddy piped up belligerently. He smacked the candy on the counter. “How much?”

      Charity noticed Art’s eyebrows rise at the obvious discourtesy, but she shook her head slightly.

      “Yes, he was here first, Art,” Charity murmured.

      “All right, then. Twenty-nine cents, please, young man.”

      As Charity watched the child’s hand slip into his pocket for the change, she noticed his other hand snitch a chocolate bar from the stand in front of him and slip it into his other pocket She motioned СКАЧАТЬ