isn’t right.”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t remember the reasons you gave me, either.” He was actually beginning to feel some sympathy for her. “I do remember that your intentions were good.”
“The road to hell and all that.” She looked so downcast. “Well, I just wanted you to know that my mom figured it out, so it probably won’t be long before Witt does, as well. I guess that won’t make any difference in how they feel about you. But it’s going to make my life miserable for a while. Which I guess I deserve.”
There was a small coffee shop down the street, a place frequented mostly by some old hippies who had migrated here to live a more rural life and spent small fortunes on organic foods. The café was part of the Earth Mother Co-op, but anyone could shop there. He took her hand.
“Let’s go get something hot to drink. That wind is cutting right through my jacket.” Mainly because he’d been in a hurry and had grabbed the nearest jacket at hand, one that was better suited to the fall than the winter around here. He hadn’t planned on standing outside having a conversation.
“Okay,” she said. The circles that moved through the Earth Mother Co-op and the circles in which Witt moved almost never intersected. Small town or not, there were a few social boundaries over which gossip seldom passed. Witt would never hear about the two of them having coffee.
The co-op was warm, heated by a Franklin stove that was always well fueled. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet, and the aromas of grains stocked in open barrels filled the air, along with the delicious scent of fresh coffee and baked goods.
“Man,” Hardy remarked, “I’m going to have to buy a loaf of bread.”
Joni was apparently of like mind. She ordered a cinnamon roll with her coffee.
“Have you ever noticed,” Hardy asked, “that many of life’s most important conversations take place over food?”
Some of the sadness lifted from her eyes. “It’s true. Mom and I always have our conversations over coffee or dinner.”
“Yeah. Seems more sociable, somehow.” But his mind wasn’t really on the coffee the waiter put in front of him, or on the aroma of Joni’s cinnamon roll.
“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “If Witt asks me if you gave me the bid package, I’ll tell him no.”
“You don’t have to lie for me.”
“No, I don’t. But I will. There’s no point in having that ugliness fall on your head. I’m a grown man. I didn’t have to bid.”
“No,” Joni said firmly. “I’ll take my licks. I deserve them.”
“You don’t want this kind of trouble with your uncle.”
“Why not? Maybe it’ll clear the air.”
Hardy shook his head. “Nothing’s going to clear the air, not after all this time.”
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