I glanced down, struggling to keep my composure.
“That hay was one of the last things my husband did for us.”
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Then I said quietly,
“I didn’t come here to demand anything. You paid for those bales in good faith, and I understand that.”
Arlen remained silent.
“I just didn’t want you hearing some story around town that I was selling everything and walking away from the life Tom and I built.”
I tried to smile.
“That’s not happening. Not if I can help it.”
Arlen looked at me for a long time.
Then he slowly pushed his chair away from the table.
He stood without saying a word.
Walked across the kitchen.
And took his old felt hat from a hook beside the door.
I assumed I’d upset him.
“Arlen, I’m sorry if this has made things uncomfortable.”
He didn’t answer immediately.
