Vestavia Hills. Christian Perego

was agitated, but Evelyn was becoming it even more: "I'm not talking about what's going to happen there. I'm talking about the situation that you will cause here! Martyn, how can you think of getting her and just taking her away with you? As if you were two spouses going on a trip. People will talk. Immediately. And they will react. "

      "I want to live with her. I have decided."

      "Martyn, it was just supposed to be just for fun. Something that was going to end soon after it started. I only agreed on these conditions. "

      Evelyn Archer didn't look like a general store's old owner anymore, but a politician who was deciding the fate of the country: "I let this relationship carry on, even after what we had agreed. But only under the same conditions as before.

      Now you talk to me about running away with her somewhere else, and you haven't even decided where. You must have gone mad. "

      "Yes, I am mad about her. And I'm here to tell you. "

      "Ah, spare me this nonsense. Your pride speaks. Elizabeth is a woman you shouldn't have, and you want to prove to yourself that you can overcome this difficulty. Do you want to live your whole life without sleeping peacefully? Do you want the people of Vestavia Hills to talk behind my back and point their fingers at me every time I go out on the street? "

      "It's something that only concerns me."

      "No, you're wrong. It concerns us, I included. You will disappear if it will ever happen, but I don't want to leave my town, my shop, just for a crush. I won't let you. "

      The nephew was silent. He tried to hold his aunt's look, but he had to look away first.

      He had never realized how argumentative and fierce she was. There was something proud and ruthless about her look, a severity he never expected, which made his earlier certainties vacillate.

      Rose, the cat, peeked out from behind a solid wood table cluttered with objects. Its attitude was nervous. It was taking a nap, and lazily opened its eyes when the tone between the aunt and nephew had risen.

      The shouting did not at all annoy her, but it was clear that it was nervous.

      As soon as it saw Martyn, it looked at him intently, frozen. At first, the tail swayed slowly, and then it stopped too.

      Evelyn, busy discussing with the boy, hadn't seen it; but as soon as the cat hissed, she couldn't help but notice it.

      Rose clenched her mouth and hissed again, as the fur ruffled on her back. Then it arched its back and let out an aggressive meow.

      "Be good, Rose. What's wrong?" said Evelyn.

      Martyn was a little puzzled but did not give much importance to the animal.

      As if its owner's calling had been an encouragement to attack instead of the opposite, the cat took a few steps forward: with an aggressive attitude, it hissed and meowed again.

      "I don't understand. It has never done that before," said Evelyn.

      "Forget it. That cat has never liked me. Just as clearly as its owner," Martyn replied.

      "Ah, don't be pathetic now."

      There was no way to continue the conversation, as there weren't other topics to discuss: the young man left the shop angrily, closing the door behind him without a word or a nod to the old aunt.

      Mrs. Archer put her hands on her 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