“Hadn’t he and Carrie decided on seven o’clock? It was already ten minutes past seven, and no sign of her. He’d watched her clock out, just as they’d planned, and leave with the other workers a little more than an hour ago. When she’d scurried up the sidewalk in the direction of her boarding hotel, he’d expected her to take a detour, work her way around the block, and return. But instead she’d completely disappeared in the early-morning mists. Had she changed her mind about meeting him? Yesterda...y’s rain had created more puddles in the graveled patch where wagons pulled in to receive the crates of chocolate. Oliver eased around them, mindful of the difficulty of washing muddy spatters from the bottom few inches of his pant legs. Odd how being forced to perform the rudimentary chores himself had awakened a sense of diligence. When he returned home, he would express frequent appreciation to those who saw to his laundry. He reached the loading-dock doors and perched on the damp edge of the hip-high dock, sending another glance up the alley.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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