Chapter Twenty-Four
Mrs. Poplar called the weather a wash-out, a storm that moved onto shore during the hours before sunrise and left Sunday services empty. The day broke with a pall over the island as Alfred made his way across town. Grey clouds tinted the air a steely shade that blurred in the rain while deep navy clouds rested on the shoulder of the horizon.
The steeple of St. Joseph’s peaked over the rooftops as the carriage slowed along 23rd Street, the rain becoming a drizzle. Florence’s house was a light blue façade with oleander bushes along the fence, exactly as he had pictured it would be. He adjusted his tie and gave the door a hearty knock before nervously adjusting the bouquet in his hands. The door opened with energy.
A fair-skinned woman stood in the doorway, the house op
