“Mrs. Anderton, I cannot thank you enough,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
“Nonsense. It was your mother who did all the work. What a lovely woman.”
Christy smiled. “She is.”
His mother followed, wiping her hands on her apron. “Do you think we will need any more today?”
Christy shook his head. I think things will quieten down now as we get towards five o’clock.”
He was right. As the light faded, and the customers dwindled, Christy’s chest became tighter and tighter. He had no idea what to do about his mother, and no idea where Mr. Fenton might be. His first task was to persuade his mother to stay put in the warm with him. She could have his room, Mr. Fenton would understand, of that he was certain.
When the last customer was gone, Christy shut the door and put the closed sign up. He was exhausted, and all but vibrating with anxiety.