“I was by the creek. Your grandson passed me on his way to MacMillan’s and told me what was a-do. So I went along to Mr. Higgins and asked for his wife’s shroud.” She lifted the cloth slightly in illustration, and I saw the embroidered edges, done in greens, blues, and pinks. “Oh.” That Amy would have her shroud already prepared hadn’t occurred to me at all—though it should have. “Er…thank you, Mrs. Cunningham. That was very thoughtful of you.”
Common ground, finally.
