Chapter Nine
“I never even had the chance to meet Roger, actually. You see, I have a patron named Emily,” I started out.
Nathan interjected, “An older lady? Emily Walton?”
I smiled at him. “That’s right. I forget sometimes how many people you know in Whitby. You can put all this in context better than I could by trying to explain the backstory.”
He sat back in his chair, forgetting the Chinese takeaway for a moment as he thought. “Nice lady. Something of a busybody. She and I were on a committee together at the Presbyterian Church . . . a history of the church for its sesquicentennial and bringing in all sorts of Whitby history, too, of course, since those things would have been intertwined. She wanted, I think, to be helpful, but she wasn’t very.”
“How did she try to help you?” I ask
