A Week From Sunday by Dorothy Garlock

Author:Dorothy Garlock [Garlock, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780446695336
Publisher: Grand Central
Published: 2007-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

THE CEILING FANS in Comstock Grocery turned lazily in the mid-afternoon hour, their blades doing little more than pushing the heat around. A folksy song crackled from a small radio, its faraway music tinny in the high-vaulted space. The only other sound came from the flies that hovered above the shelves, their buzzing an incessant background.

Adrianna had left the Baxter home as much to get away from Lola, as to pick up a few things at the mercantile. Her head still felt a touch fuzzy from her time in the attic, but her strength was returning. What she’d really needed was some time alone; besides the store owner, the only other customer was a woman examining the spools in the thread cabinet.

“What a day,” Adrianna commented under her breath.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not get the conversation between Lola and Reuben out of her mind. The single fact that Lola had intentionally locked her in the attic was bad enough without knowing it was only one of the vile woman’s plans. With an ogre of a man like Reuben willing to help her, was there anything too low for her to do? “There ain’t nobody that knows what I’m really plannin.’ ” Lola’s words chilled her.

“Is there anything I can help you with, miss?” a voice behind her spoke, startling her.

Adrianna spun quickly to find that the store’s clerk had come out from behind the counter. A portly man on whose bald head only small tufts of white hair remained near his ears, the clerk had a smile nearly as wide as his entire face. A pair of pince-nez glasses balanced precariously on his bulbous nose. There was something about him that reminded Adrianna of a preacher; she supposed that there was certainly a touch of salesmanship in both professions. As he wiped his hands across his apron, he seemed to sense that he had startled her.

“I’m terribly sorry if I gave you a fright. It’s very easy to get lost in thought in a store like this. Lord only knows how many days I’ve spent staring off into nothing,” he explained. Extending one hand toward her, he said, “I’m Roger Comstock, the owner. If there is anything I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“My name is Adrianna Moore,” she said, giving him as warm a greeting as he had given her. “I’m afraid that I’ve never been in your nice store before, and I was wondering where I might find the bath soap.”

“Right this way.”

Mr. Comstock led Adrianna to another aisle where he directed her to what she was looking for, before excusing himself and returning to the counter. Thanking him for his help, she looked halfheartedly amongst the various kinds of soap, her mind still racing over all that had befallen her.

It was enough that she had found herself in Lee’s Point at all, let alone that she was faced with the possibility that an irate woman she hardly knew wanted to do her harm.

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