“By the way,” Jeremy said, “I brought you and Mr. Free a little housewarming gift. I left it on your table. It’s a bag of coffee beans. I buy them
at a shop in Detroit that gets them all the way from Brazil. Best coffee you’ll ever taste.”
“Well thank you, Mr. Kincaid. That was most kind of you. We’ll enjoy it. We
do like our coffee, though neither of us is very good at making it.” The moment
she spoke, a scowl hovered over her face. She didn’t like the way “we” and “us”
had sounded – as if she and Mourning were a couple.
“Would you object to calling me Jeremy?”
“No, of course not,” she said.
With that, her manners were all used up. Having seldom spoken to anyone
she hadn’t known all her life, she had no idea what she was supposed to say now.
Should she tell him to call her Olivia? Everyone in Five Rocks did, but that was
because they still thought of her as a child. Perhaps he was supposed to ask her
permission. This was one count Mabel Mears had been right on – Olivia could
have used an older woman to teach her these things. Then her stubborn streak took over. What did she care what a bunch of fuddy-duddies thought?
Civilization on the Michigan frontier would survive her lack of proper etiquette
just fine. As long as you were kind to other people, wasn’t that the most civilized
thing?
“And Olivia is fine with me,” she said. “Truth be told, you’re the first person
who’s ever called me Miss Killion, except for Mourning – and he only does
when he thinks I’m acting snooty. And Mourning might faint on the spot if
anyone called him Mr. Free.”
They were catching up to Mourning and she wondered if he could hear what
they were saying.
“Well, then Mourning it will be. He seems a right good skin. Doing a grand
job on the roof.”
“Oh Mourning is the handiest fellow you’ll ever find. He can do anything.” If
Mourning could hear them, she hoped lavish praise would help compensate for
her having spoken about his private business. Then she changed the subject.
“How long have you been out here?”
Jeremy thought for a moment. “Going on eight years. Came out in ’34.”
“How does your family like life in Michigan?”
“I don’t have any family here.”
She waited for him to embellish or ask her a question, but he remained silent.
“So where are you from?” she asked as they caught up with Mourning.
“Maine.”
“Maine? Oh my, then you must have seen the Atlantic Ocean!”
“Certainly have and it is a sight. But if there’s one thing not lacking in Michigan, it’s large bodies of water. Lake Huron is just as pretty and doesn’t burn your eyes the way saltwater does. Lake St. Clair is lovely too and they’ve
finished putting in a road all the way to Mt. Clemens.”
“If you don’t farm,” she asked, “What do you do? Hunt or trap or
something?”
