“Mistress Carr, have I come at an awkward time? We haven’t crossed paths in a long time, and I thought with the new babe being a month old, it would be acceptable to call.”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Come into the front room.” I smooth down my apron and pick up an errant toy, leading the way into the room. “May I get ye something? Small beer, perhaps?”
Tom stands awkwardly, clutching a hat in his hands. He’s aged since he returned from the Indian war. When he issues orders to the militia, his voice is harsher. His stance radiates brute strength. And his eyes have more depth, as if they can look through a person.
“Please sit.” I feel flustered in his presence. “I’ll get the beer.”
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