Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

company for a bit, if you don’t mind. It’s just a nice evening for a stroll.”
    Alafair couldn’t help but laugh at that. It had been drizzling a freezing rain off and on all day. The wind was still, but if it were twenty-five degrees, she would have been surprised. The layered clouds warned of snow before morning. “I don’t mind if y’all take a little stroll,” she told him, “though you might have picked a better evening for it. I do wish you would take some supper with us.”
    John Lee tore his gaze from Phoebe and looked at Phoebe’s mother. “Thank you, ma’am, but I got to get home. Maybe some other time.” He looked back at Phoebe again, and that strange transformation again came over his face. “Good night, Phoebe,” he said, backing out of the gate.
    “Good night, John Lee,” Phoebe replied in a voice like honey.
    Alafair and Phoebe stood together in silence, hand in hand, and watched for a long time as he went back down the drive, until he turned out onto the road toward his own farm.
    “So, you’ve started taking regular strolls on down by the Day place,” Alafair finally observed. “Must be half a mile. That’s quite an amble in this cold.”
    Phoebe did not normally have a high color, but the cold and her emotions had already reddened her face, so her mother’s question caused her to flush alarmingly. “I get cabin fever staying in the house all the time, what with this weather, Ma. Sometimes I like to have a little walk. John Lee has spotted me a couple of times and come up to his gate to talk to me. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
    “No, surely not,” Alafair said. “I think you should invite him to supper, though. Let me and your daddy meet him. Especially if you’re going to be doing any more ‘strolling’ in the future.”
    “He’s a nice boy, Mama,” Phoebe assured her.
    “I’m sure he is, Phoebe. Especially if you like him. Now let’s get inside before I freeze to death. I swear it’ll snow before the night is out.”
    They turned and walked toward the deep porch that ran along the entire front of the long white house. Alafair paused and took Phoebe’s arm before they went inside. “Honey, I know you’ll use your sense now,” she warned. “But I want you to be careful about going over there to the Day place. That father of John Lee’s isn’t the best of men. And I’d really like for your daddy to look this boy over before you get too fond of him.”
    Alafair feared that if Phoebe got any redder, the top of her head would blow off like an overheated thermometer. For an instant, Phoebe’s mouth worked, but no words came out. “You’re right about that old man Day, Ma,” Phoebe finally managed, her voice rapid and low. “He’s just an evil man. He strikes Miz Day sometimes, and John Lee, too. You could see that. And he drinks something awful, Ma. He makes his own corn liquor and sells it to the low types around. I think we ought to tell the sheriff about him. But John Lee ain’t like that, Mama. He’s so good. He feels real responsible for his mother and them kids, and he’s so gentle and kind, even to animals. He’s never been anything but a perfect gentleman, believe me, Ma. And he wants to improve himself, too, and learn….”
    Alafair patted Phoebe’s arm. “Calm down, now,” she soothed. “I never said we were going to forbid you to see him. You just ask him over first chance you get.”
    Phoebe said, “Yes, ma’am,” but she looked troubled, and Alafair thought that Phoebe was afraid that John Lee’s father would be the real impediment to their relationship. It hurt Alafair to admit to herself that this was probably the case.
    ***
    It was a relief to finally get into the dark warmth of the house. They walked together into the large parlor, which was brightened by tall windows that covered two walls. Two doors in the back of the room led to the bedrooms, and to the left was the entrance to the enormous kitchen. The parlor was furnished with a settee and two horsehair-stuffed armchairs, plus several slat-backed chairs, a rocker and a few side tables. A fine old upright piano graced one corner, and two narrow iron cots were discreetly tucked head to head into another. A large quilt frame was appended to the ceiling by a rope and pulley at each corner, to keep it out of the way when not in use. The pot-belly stove in the center of the parlor was fired up enough to take the chill out of the air, but the real heat