“It’s too warm for early spring,” Bertha said as she, Carrie and Miss Tootsie sat at their favorite table in Bonnie’s Bakery.
Carrie sipped her coffee. “It may be too warm, but I’ll take this kind of weather to the damp, chilly days we’ve been having.”
“How about a refill, ladies?” Bonnie asked, stopping by their table with a coffee pot. “I agree with Bertha—it is too warm. Muggy, no breeze. My father always said this type of weather meant a storm was coming.”
Miss Tootsie was quiet until Bonnie had returned to the counter. “I don’t like this feeling I have. It’s an uneasy feeling, like something is about to happen. I’ve had it all spring. After Leonard Strummond died, I thought maybe that was the reason I had a sort of premonition, but I still feel that way. I have something to tell you both but you have to swear that you’ll not tell another soul what I’m about to say.”
Carrie put down her cup. “Of course,” she whispered.
“You know that we can be as silent as a rock,” Bertha said.
Miss Tootsie raised her eyebrows. “A rock, hmm? We all like Bonnie, but with people coming and going into the bakery, I don’t feel comfortable saying anything in here. Do you have time to come with me to my house? We can talk more freely there.”
Bertha shivered. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Just let me finish one more bite of doughnut and I’m ready,” Carrie added.
“You’ve got my curiosity roused,” Bertha said as they left Bonnie’s and started up the hill toward Miss Tootsie’s home.
“Does your secret have anything to do with the break-ins in town?” Carrie asked.
“Let’s just wait until we can sit down and I’ll explain,” Miss Tootsie answered. “I need your input and I don’t trust my own thoughts about this situation.”
Sitting at her kitchen table a few minutes later, Tootsie looked at the expectant expressions on her friends’ faces and wondered just how much she should tell them. She would trust them with her life, but would she trust them with everything she had learned? They wouldn’t intentionally spread rumors but even the most well-meaning people sometimes let something slip. Speaking her thoughts out loud would help see things more clearly and three heads were better than her one, but how much to tell?
I like the way you lead the readers on to wonder what will be revealed.
Thank you, Morgan. It’s a great deal of fun.