“We walked into church together, whispers trailing behind us. I ducked my head. Did he hear them, too? I glanced up again. His chest puffed out a bit now, and his gait took on a swagger. He obviously felt no shame to be linked with an old maid of twenty-two. One with bobbed hair and a car of her own, who bore the name of the most influential man in town. Maybe, just maybe, Lawrence Trotter was God’s answer to my prayers–in more ways than one.”
