Sarah Breaux eyed the child at a breast, partaking of her mother’s milk against the backdrop of the river gently flowing from the north through the grassland. “My timing isn’t good.”

“Nonsense; I said come by any time this morning. Sit yourself down.”

“Thank you.” Sarah sat herself down on a corner of the quilt facing upriver, and gently kicked off her shoes.

“So you’re looking for Ingram Morris.”

“Already found ‘im.” Sarah had closed her eyes to the morning sunlight sparkling off the river, and was running a hand through her glossy hair. “Who I’m looking for now is his own private lost connection.” Sarah opened her eyes to smile and squint across the quilt. “Know anybody?”

Rachel Lewis shook her head with her own smile. “Ingram Morris pretty much kept to himself in high school. If you’re looking for his lost love, you might be digging too deep.”

Sarah closed her eyes and leaned back once more, even as she sighed at the thought that she would have to be hitting a road north yet again. “Any suggestions?”

“Feminine charm?”

When Sarah looked again, Rachel was looking with closed eyes into the warm, rising sun. “That’s what my editor suggested.”

Rachel’s smile was unmoved. “Maybe your editor was right.”

####

“You can’t go any further, ma’am.”