Chapter 28
Concordia didn’t even bother to look for Eleanor Reese as she rushed back to the road. What that woman did from now on meant nothing to her.
The pony, mercifully, was munching contentedly on the grass within sight of the cart, and Concordia was able to lead it over and buckle it back into its traces. Soon they were on their way down the fork in the road leading to Hassett Knoll.
As they rattled past the Main Street shops, the patrons stopped to stare. She knew why, of course—hatless, short hair all in a tumble around her head, skirts filthy from grass, weeds, and the dusty house, spectacles sliding down her nose—it was a wonder they had stayed on her face at all—the pony lathered and panting. She must look like an asylum escapee.
She pulled up to the café and jumped down, le
