Chapter 6
Ruth had a casual policy about opening up on Sundays — if you asked her, she’d say “noonish.” I had been cooling my heels outside Mother Earth for ten minutes before she appeared at the intersection of Main and Conduit carrying a bag of bagels from Chick ’n’ Ruth’s deli. I caught sight of her strolling down the street, munching on half a bagel, window-shopping as if she were a tourist with all the time in the world. Under her mohair shawl she wore a natural linen outfit in dark lavender which I thought would be more suitable for May than for January. The slacks flopped loosely around her ankles, casually rumpled, as if she’d been sleeping in them. Knowing Ruth, though, she’d probably paid extra for the wrinkles.
Customers weren’t exactly lining up at the door as if waiting to b
