“But it’s safe for Arthur?”
“What Arthur does is his business.”
“But what I do is yours?”
“Strawberries!” Charles said, standing.
Minnie’s scowl melted in confusion. “Strawberries?”
“Do you think they’ll have any today? It’s Market Day down
by the pier, isn’t it? I’d love some strawberries.”
“Don’t be silly,” Cora answered, standing to fold the blanket
and tuck it into the basket. “Market Day is overpriced nonsense
for the tourists. If you want strawberries, we’ll go through John.
He’ll do us fair.”
Charles knew she’d say that, of course. They’d already had
this discussion when Thom had come back with a basket of fruit
two days prior. But Cora was no longer arguing with Minnie,
because now she had a task. And both sisters had forgotten
about Arthur. The way Minnie studied the older boy, Charles
suspected he was the source of her far-off, troubled gazes. Divert-
ing her attentions from Arthur was also essential to his quest for
a kiss.
“Yes, let’s avoid the market,” Thom said, shuffling his feet and
dodging Charles’s eyes with an odd intensity. Come to think of it,
Thom had been in a strange mood when he came back with that
silly basket of fruit. Charles had thought it merely worry for his
health, but maybe it was something else entirely.
“The old church is on the way. It’s haunted,” Minnie said,
with the same reverent sweetness another girl might comment on
the stained-glass windows or historic steeple.
“Perfect!” Charles held out his elbow to her, noting with plea-
sure when Arthur drifted behind them.
The chapel was a narrow white building, too small for the