26
John Aguila’s tall form, comfortably sturdy, strode to the back porch of Scarlett’s house, alongside the cotoneaster hedge covered now with more early March snow and rustling with a northeast wind.
He snatched the tuque from his head and bowed somewhat as Scarlett answered the door. “I brought you a jar of cream for the cat and a bottle of milk. Do you want a jar of yogurt, too? I notice the little guy likes it.”
She threw the door open. “Come in before the cold gets into the kitchen,” she said, brushing her nutbrown hair back from her forehead. “No, we don’t need yogurt at this time but he does like it with honey and berries. A little healthy treat. Next time we’re at the grocery store I’ll get some. I don’t want you to be inconvenienced from the convenience store, convenient though
