Chapter 10: Whispers and Warnings

After that, I didn’t see Andrew for many days.

He vanished from the neighborhood, his car replaced by the silence of empty streets. Still, his name lingered on everyone’s lips.

Only the gossip outside the shop brought news—

Rumors drifted in like cigarette smoke: who he was with, what he bought, how much he loved her.

Andrew coaxed Madison back, and they reconciled.

They were seen together at the fanciest restaurants, Madison’s smile wide and bright as ever.

On Madison’s birthday, Andrew bought out an entire jewelry store as a gift.

The salesgirls whispered about the governor’s generosity, the way he’d swept in and bought every diamond in the case.

Andrew arranged for a thousand lanterns at the Christmas parade just to make Madison smile.

That year, the parade glowed brighter than ever, and Madison’s laughter carried above the crowd.

……

People marveled at how much Andrew favored Madison.

It was the talk of every salon, every grocery line. Some envied her, most pitied her, but all agreed—her hold on Andrew was ironclad.

And they mocked my mother.

She became the target of their whispered jokes—the poor, deluded beauty who dared to stand in Madison’s way.

“She really is delusional, flaunting that pretty face in front of the governor. If that’s not seduction, what is?”

Their words were sharp, meant to draw blood even from a distance.

“Once Miss Madison has time, she’ll deal with her.”

“Wait and see,” someone muttered. “She won’t last another week.”

“Tsk tsk, I hear Miss Madison is ruthless. Who knows how many days that fox will live…”

The old men on the porch shook their heads, but no one spoke up in defense. Silence was safer.

Saw her at the Piggly Wiggly yesterday—wouldn’t want to be in her shoes, not with Madison on the warpath," one woman whispered, clutching her coupons a little tighter.

No wonder they gossiped like that.

In a town like Savannah, survival often meant choosing the winning side—and everyone knew who that was.

The last one who tried to seduce the governor was a secretary who worked late in his office. She just wore a new dress and smiled at him.

They said she was too pretty for her own good. Her name was erased from the records by morning.

The next day, her body was found in a well, her face slashed to pieces.

It was a warning, plain as day: stay away from what isn’t yours.

Any woman who came between Andrew and Madison always met a horrible end.

Some folks still leave flowers by the old well out on Miller Road, whispering prayers that the next pretty girl might be spared.

……

Late at night, I was a little scared and grabbed my mother’s hand.

Her fingers were icy, but she squeezed mine back, offering what comfort she could.

Her hand was cold, but her smile was gentle.

She tucked me in, humming an old lullaby she used to sing when I was a baby. Her eyes were tired, but her love was fierce.

Mother kissed my forehead:

The touch was soft, a promise that she’d keep me safe—no matter what.

“Lila, remember, most people in this world are far from the truth, so their words aren’t worth listening to.”

Her voice was low, the words heavy with the wisdom of hard years. I clung to them like a lifeline.

“We just need to mind our own business.”

She smiled, brushing the hair from my eyes, her thumb warm against my cheek.

……

Actually, after Madison’s trouble, there was almost no business at the shop.

The regulars stopped coming, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire. Some days, we sat in silence, listening to the wind rattle the shutters.

But my mother still carefully wiped the tables and prepared the ingredients every day.

She did it for herself, for me, and maybe for the memory of a man who once made the best roast lamb in Georgia.

Finally, on a very quiet night, a car appeared at the end of the alley.

Its headlights washed the street in gold, cutting through the darkness. I peeked out the window, heart pounding.

It was Andrew.

He stepped out alone, his coat pulled tight against the cold. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the hush.

He came alone, pushed open the creaking wooden door.

The hinges groaned in protest. He paused, glancing around at the empty tables, as if searching for something he’d lost long ago.

“Are you closed?”

He stood in the doorway, hat in hand, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else—but unable to walk away. The words hung between us, heavy with everything unsaid. I held my breath, waiting to see if this was an ending—or the start of something we couldn’t take back.