Chapter 8A frail middle-aged woman stood huddled inside a shabby limp coat. The strong wind blew her off stance. She braced her hands on the doorjamb to steady herself.
Edith held the door to keep it from slamming on the woman's fingers. “June? It's June, isn't it?”
A faded red scarf was tied around her head and knotted at the throat, but stray strands of limp mousy brown hair trailed in the wind. The woman nodded and pulled the coat up closer to her face. “My friend DeWitt said I should see you.”
The woman had dark sickly-looking reddish-brown circles around sunken, glassy eyes. If she had not been standing on her own two legs, Abi would have thought her dying.
“Yes, June, Abi and me. You know Abi, one of the servers?” Edith moved her head sideways so June could better see inside.
Ab
