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"I save it for good Christians." Colleen picked up the full tray and motioned for Megan to follow her with the second one. "Mark my words, Sister. I will not tolerate your wickedness much longer. One whisper from me, from Gene, and no one will frequent your store."
"You're wrong about that."
"Am I?" Colleen smiled, "Shall we find out?"
"I'm your sister. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"Not if you persist in acting this way." She walked from the kitchen.
Megan sat in one of the chairs by the table and rested her chin in her hands. She could hear the faint laughter and conversation from the parlor. She felt out of place and unwelcome in her sister's home. That made her sad, but wasn't surprising. This had been coming for a long time. Perhaps it had all started that cold November day their father had told them their mother was dead. As far as she knew, it was the only time their father had ever lied.
The back door opened and Gene walked in. His bare scalp and temple glistened from the heat. He wore a white shirt and vest, and carried his black jacket in one hand. When he saw her, he stopped and smiled. There was something peculiar and a little frightening about his eyes.
"Megan. What are you doing here?"
"Colleen is having a meeting." She rose to her feet and approached the stove. "I was just waiting for the coffee." She opened the pot and glanced at the dark liquid. "Oh, look. It's ready." She poured it into the silver service.
Before she could pick up the tray, Gene moved close and placed his hand on her arm. "Colleen is very worried about you."
Despite his lack of hair and his chilling expression, Gene wasn't unattractive. He was tall and lean, with a studied but graceful carriage. When they'd first been introduced, she, along with her sister, had thought him handsome. Her opinion had quickly changed as she'd spent more time with him. She'd even tried to talk Colleen out of the engagement.
Now, with his fingers gently stroking her forearm, she had to fight the urge to put as much space between them as possible. "My sister is overly protective. I understand her concerns, even if I don't agree with them. Don't worry yourself, Gene. Everything is fine."
"I do worry about you. With your father gone, I consider you my responsibility." His brown eyes met hers. Something flared there. She didn't want to know what it was so she turned away and swept up the heavy tray.
Gene seemed to take the hint and moved to the hallway and held open the door. It was an unnecessary task; the door stayed open on its own. Still, she thanked him graciously.
Before she could escape completely, he spoke again. "The child will be sent away.''
"You, too?" she asked, resigned. "What is it about this little girl that has everyone so afraid?"
"I'm not afraid. I'm just warning you. Bonnie's pres-1 ence in this town is divisive. The Lord wants all of us to love one another and live in harmony."
She gripped the tray tightly. "Except for Bonnie or her mother."
"Exactly."
"She's just one little girl."
"It only takes one pair of hands to do the devil's work."
Megan started down the hallway toward the parlor. She didn't know who was worse—Colleen or her husband. They both made her shudder.
She entered the parlor and realized she'd gone from bad to worse. The discussion there was already heated.
"It's disgusting," Mrs. Greeley said, reaching forward and pouring herself another cup of coffee.
"I can't imagine what happens there," another woman said.
There were ten ladies in all sitting in Colleen's parlor. She'd inherited their father's penchant for overfilling a room. Settee and sofas, chairs and tables were crammed into every available inch of space. Lacquered boxes and figurines littered the surface of the tables. Megan had to hold the tray while Mrs. Dobson made room. She set it down, then settled next to the older woman, all the while wondering how long she had to stay before she could politely escape.
"She sleeps in his bed," Mrs. Greeley said knowledge-ably. Several of the ladies gasped. They were all the best of Landing society, such as it was. The butcher's wife, the widowed sisters who owned the founding farm, Colleen, Mrs. Dobson, Megan and a few others Megan didn't know that well.
