hips, standing in front of Rose, trying to have what she wanted to be a disapproving look. But in reality, the woman was somewhat concerned instead of annoyed by the animal's behaviour.
"What's wrong with you?" she said in a low voice.
Evelyn watched the cat for a few more moments and then turned to the door her nephew had just walked out from, feeling a squeeze in her stomach as when we eat something not so fresh.
"I won't let you make me Vestavia Hills outcast, Martyn.
To satisfy your desires, I have already compromised myself, and now you will not take away my good reputation with other whims."
Just then, the door of the store was about to open for the third time that morning.
A tall and distinguished man was coming forward from the paved road that crossed the main street along which Evelyn Archer's shop overlooked.
Evelyn stopped to observe him through the glass of the entrance door as he entered the porch: he was dressed in black, neatly as always; he made every movement without haste and had beautiful pleasantness painted on his face.
Then the bells on the door announced the newcomer.
"Good morning, Reverend Abblepot."
"Good morning to you, Evelyn."
Johnathan Abblepot's voice filled the room with its roundness, like the scent of a good blackberry pie.
"How was your trip?"
"Oh, it was tiring at times. I am not talking about the journey in the carriage; you know I like to drive it. However, all those days of attending meetings and talking, I must confess they stressed me out a bit. "
"I understand. Having to make decisions sometimes is more complicated than accepting them. "
"Look how philosophical our Evelyn Archer has become! Let me tell you then that it always depends on the type of decisions: there are the ones that benefit many, but not all, so they weigh on the shoulders of those who make them; and ones that bring discredit to most, so these weigh on those who have to accept them. Eh, what do you think? Did eight days of conferences turn me into a more educated priest? "
"You, Reverend, were intelligent even before. That's why people love you in Vestavia Hills. "
"That's why, Evelyn, I couldn't wait to come back."
The exchange of pleasantries carried on for a while. The priest was delighted to be able to meet his whole community, to hear their voices again, and see their looks again; Mrs. Archer found the reverend's affability seducing and pleasant, like a rich detail of the otherwise tasteless decor. However, this bothered her slightly.
Abblepot had just returned from a trip he was invited to exchange opinions about faith, and management of the congregation with other reverends of the county. He had spent five days with other churchmen and a couple of days travelling there and back.
He was tired but satisfied. He knew that many in town relied heavily on him, and he was happy to be a guide and comfort again for those who needed it.
Evelyn Archer was also happy with his return, although for different reasons than those of most of the congregation of Vestavia Hills.
Happy, but also apprehensive: when there is something that you have to hide from someone, you are never sure if that someone will find out in one way or another.
Especially if this doesn't just depend on you, but on a young man who is as enthusiastic as he is foolish.
Abblepot spoke again: "Listen, Evelyn, I would like to buy you something."
"You see, Reverend, you are certainly spoiled for choice here," said Mrs. Archer, in a tired tone without letting the reverend noticing.
"Yes, thank you, Evelyn. I know yours is a well-stocked shop. But I already have in mind what I want to buy. You know, before I left, Elizabeth and I were talking about a rocking chair; we already have one at home, but the one I told her I saw here has something special. I don't know why, but it looks more comfortable than many others. "
"I know the one you are referring to," said Mrs. Archer.
"Well done. Precisely. I'd like to pay for it right away. Could you have someone bringing it home to me? "
"Don't worry, Reverend Abblepot. You don't have to pay me now. You will have your chair tomorrow. I'll have my nephew bring it to you."
"He is a good boy and a hard worker. Elizabeth also likes him very much."
Ms. Archer registered the information, and it was as if she had a small electric shock: "Say that again, please?"
"I said he's a hard worker. I made him fix the fence once, don't you remember? Then I invited him a few more times to get something chilled. "
"Ah, does your wife know him then too?" Evelyn said with excessive and ill-concealed interest.
"Of course, Evelyn. Where do you think Elizabeth was on those occasions? And she finds him very nice. Strange that he hasn't told you. Well. Look, now I have to go. I just came by for the rocking chair. I can't wait to freshen up and to hug Elizabeth and my house. See you later."
"See you later."
After the farewell, Mrs. Archer had a circle in her head: thoughts swarmed in her mind like people in the crowd of Christmas Mass. She stared, without looking at anything, at the back of Reverend Abblepot, who had gone out on the porch.
As soon as he was in the street, the priest waved hello to his right. Then he turned left and disappeared from the view of an increasingly concerned and irritated Evelyn Archer.
While heading towards the church and the vicarage, a few hundred meters away, the reverend distinguished the figure of a young man who came in his direction with quick and decisive steps.
Abblepot recognized in him, when he was closer, the grandson of Mrs. Archer. As soon as the boy was within range, he nodded at him, smiling and touching the brim of his hat.
However, the young man, after looking at him, lowered his hat and his look, to avoid meeting that of the priest and pretending not to have seen him.
3.
The following day was a sleepy Sunday morning in Vestavia Hills, a lazy Alabama town, few souls, a lot of lands, and simple life. Hardly any noteworthy event had ever come to disrupt that place which seemed so from the mists of time; the events of surprise were given by the quarrels of unsuspected families or by some higher earnings from someone due to some useful trade or an excellent agricultural year. The area where Vestavia was, also had something of Edenic, primordial, peaceful.
It was how the elders in town had always remembered it, and everyone, or almost everyone, liked it to be.
People walked lazily towards the church.
The service would begin soon after that and nobody wanted to be late. You would have been stared at severely by everyone, and you would have felt as if you had failed.
So the men in their elegant blue or black suits led their wives arm
