Michael Malone - Weebly

when he founded the town. Elijah on his pedestal
flecked his sun-dappled stone grin at her. All right, she
agreed, three centuries was a drop in the bucket, but in
the long run, so were the pyramids, so was the planet.
Meanwhile, she, the last of the Dingleys, would leave
the town behind her. It was something.
She spotted Winslow Abernathy as he walked,
stooped and preoccupied, into the circle. "Winslow.
Winslow!" He was waved over with the cane she kept
folded on her lap. 'What's this about you and Beanie?
Sorry to hear it."
The lawyer frowned while smiling, a habitual
gesture. "Who told you?"
"Half a dozen people. Don't say you're surprised."
"Just surprised it hasn't been announced on the
radio." Winslow began fastening the button on his shirt
pocket.
"Don't be an idiot. Well. Where'd she go? And
what are you planning to do about it?"
"Nothing. But as a matter of fact she's in New
York. I'd been really worried, of course, but she called
late last night."