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down the county road too fast for gravel. She parked crooked near the gate and got out holding a stack of papers. She wasn’t smiling.
I was on the porch with my coffee when she marched up the walk.
“You need to explain this,” she said.
I sat in Ruth’s old rocking chair. The other chair beside me was empty.
“Morning, Lindsay.”
She slapped the papers onto continue reading …
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