Ian came down the stairs from the residence and entered the cabinet shop, dressed in brown breeches and a white shirt with a brown vest. He had the minister’s jacket, collar and hat neatly tucked in the leather satchel.
“I’ll be back,” he called to his father, who was making a dresser in the back of the shop.
“We’ve work to do,” Patrick protested as Ian closed the door. “Don’t be forgetting what puts food on our table.”
Ian walked down Chestnut to Second, the leaves on the majestic trees starting to change, traces of orange and yellow and red replacing the green. When he turned down the cobblestone lane that led to the rectory, he approached a woman holding a basket, a sleeping baby inside wrapped in blankets.
“Good morning,” he said, peeking in the basket. “What a beautiful baby.”
“T
