She stopped. So did the wagon the MacOaf was driving.
He grinned down at her. “I thought Joe Cabinet had a house up on the hill, one of those old brick places with the white columns and velvet knee pillows on the front steps for genuflecting.”
Georgina used every ounce of her concentration to keep walking. “John Cabotdoes live on the hill.I’mgoing home.”
“Interesting. I thought you’d race a path right to his golden door.”
She stopped. “Dressed like this?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“You look just fine to me.”
“I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you approve. Just makes me want to swoon with delight.”
“Don’t swoon. I don’t want you to stop walking, George. I like the way you walk.”
She was silent.
“Nice and fast... with just enough jaunt in your step to make your best parts jiggle.”
She ground to an immediate halt and turned.
He reined in the wagon and sat there with his arm resting on the back of the wagon seat while he grinned at her.
“Move over.” She grabbed ahold of the wagon seat and hoisted herself up. “Since you have nothing better to do, you can take me home.”
He snapped the reins and took off with a jerk. Her back slammed into the seat frame, but she didn’t say a word.
He began to whistle merrily.
She just sat on the wagon seat, her leg rubbing against MacOaf’s. It was immensely annoying, especially when her hip would butt into his at every bump.
Of course he managed to hit every pothole and rock in the road between midtown and her home. It got so bad that she was watching the road so she could grip the railing and not end up in his lap.
She did the natural thing and pretended she didn’t care. Only a few more minutes and she would be home, then she wouldn’t have to see the MacOaf again. Ever.
Just outside of town she watched the familiar road unfold before her. She saw with new appreciation the trees she had passed so many times, the curves in the road where the willows grew, and the neighboring estates that grew larger and more elegant the farther out they drove.
In the distance the water was blue and the gulls screamed overhead and circled above them. She could hear the sounds of the sea. For some strange reason it sounded different here than it had on the island. There was a peacefulness to it. Perhaps because she was almost home.
They rounded the sharp bend in the road that was nearest the Bayard gates. Her hands were knotted in her lap and she waited anxiously to see the welcome sight of that largeBscrolled into the iron grates of the walled fence and the small Bayard clock set in the gate post.
She could hardly believe it. She was almost home.
Eachann pulled the wagon to a halt and she swung down off the seat before the wagon had rolled to a stop.
The gates were threaded with a thick metal chain and a huge steel lock. There was a paper notice with ends that were beginning to curl stuck on to the gate. It read:
Bank Foreclosure
For information regarding estate sale of all possessions and date of auction contact:
Merchants Bank
Boston, Mass.
NO TRESPASSING
Trespassers will be prosecuted
