Chapter Twenty-Three
Doris studied Ron’s red face. He looked guilty, but she’d failed to hear his discussion with the barkeep. Would she be able to finagle their conversation from him? No. She needed to stop looking for intrigue and machinations with regard to Ron. Sliding onto to the stool next to him, she smiled. “Thanks for the use of the room and the clothes. I feel less bedraggled and a whole lot more clean.” She nudged Ron’s shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “You might consider a trip upstairs.”
A petite woman whose gray hair peeked out from under a kerchief appeared balancing two steaming bowls and a platter of bread on her arms.
“Later.” His stomach rumbled. “Lunch first.”
“Welcome.” The woman set the dishes on the counter with a thump. “I’m Marie. There’s more where that came fr
