Abigail waited until just before eight a.m., put a white shawl over her blue dress, and left for the rectory. She had to warn Ian that everything he overheard about Hart was false, a trap laid by Duncan. She crossed the street, admiring the leaves changing to orange and red, painting a fiery portrait that complemented the urban landscape. Just as she reached the church, Ian pulled up in his wagon.
“Good morning,” he said as he climbed down from the bench seat.
The church door opened abruptly, and Solomon stepped out. He looked at Abigail curiously and turned to Ian. “Mr. Blaine, how good to see you. I thought I would stop by and check your progress.”
“Good morning, Pastor,” Ian said.
Abigail tried to hide her surprise, wondering when Solomon had left the house. She thought he was in hi
