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Sally Darcy was thumbing through fabrics in Stuart & Johnson when Wally pulled up in front of the store in the late afternoon to return Mr. Smith’s truck to its owner. She was at the counter, purchasing several yards of a few varieties of seasonably bright cloth, when Wally stepped in from the roof shadows lengthening along Lake Street and approached Mr. Smith, the man behind the counter, to thank him for the rental. Wally then nodded a surprised greeting to Smith’s other customer. “Oh, don’t mention it. Any time, any time you want, just let me know in advance,” Smith replied as he punched Sally’s figures into the cash register. “Will that be all today, Miss Darcy?” “Oh, yes, that’ll be all, Mister Smith. What do I owe you?” “Two-oh-five.” Sally reached her hand into a purse and smiled up at Wally as she handed Smith two bills and an Indianhead nickel. “My, what a pleasant coincidence, Wally! I hope you won’t be staying on in town: a lady could use an escort home.” “No, the day is done. Let’s get home in time for your sister’s supper. Thanks again, Mister Smith.” “My pleasure. You two have a pleasant evening.” Wally held the door open for his companion after leading her to the front entrance of the store. “I suspect this isn’t a coincidence.” “Oh, what might you mean?” Sally asked with an unperturbed smile as she allowed Wally to tuck the parceled fabric under the same arm as the copy of the New York World he had bought in the city. “You happen to be at the cash register the same moment I get back from the city, which also happens to be the same time I told Smith I would be back with his truck.” |