I became upset, which stopped his laughter, and made him more irritated. He told me to have a safe journey, went back inside, and closed the door.

I wept the whole way back to town. I’m not even sure why. I told myself that I was overreacting, but this time felt different.

I didn’t go to the pharmacy. I went home and took a bath. I took care to keep my hair from getting wet because Father would have noticed. Afterwards, I went to the pharmacy and found Father reading a newspaper.

“There you are,” he said. “I was beginning to worry.”

I told him that it was such a lovely day that I had taken a longer route back.

He asked about my bloodshot eyes and I told him that a bug had flown into my eye while I was riding to town. I gave him the ten-dollar bill and told him Mr. Carrington had paid his account. It made him happy.

I felt myself growing upset and asked if I could have the rest of the day off. He said I could.

I went home and didn’t leave my room for two days. I told Father I wasn’t feeling well, which wasn’t a total lie.

More days passed.

I felt more distant from Father than I ever have, not that we’ve ever been particularly close.

One afternoon, I made the mistake of asking when Carol might return. I thought that she might be someone to talk to, but Father spat back, “I don’t know and frankly, I do not care.”

He’s spending less and less time at the pharmacy, and more time at home, drinking, leaving me to run the store. He’s also warned me not to include our home address on any correspondence about the pharmacy. I can only assume it’s because of debt collectors.

There’s been no further word from Thomas, no orders or stops to the pharmacy.

And today, I had the most unwelcome visitor of all.

A group of young women were walking past the store window and one of them looked in. It was Patricia Fleming.

We locked eyes.

I could see her tell her friends to go on without her and she came in through the door.

“Good afternoon,” she said.

I was in no mood to play her little game, so I simply glared at her.

“Is that any way to treat a customer?” she asked.

“If you’re not making a purchase, I must ask you to leave.”

“All right, all right,” she said, in a way that indicated I was no fun. “I only wanted to know how your ‘business’ was with ‘Thomas’.”

“It’s fine,” I replied. “And there’s no point in lying about him to me. He told me what happened.”

She appeared shocked and angry.

“Told you what happened?”

I nodded.

“And what exactly did he say ‘happened’?”