He pointed toward the open land beyond the platform.
“When the weather turns bad, some farmers have to leave their grain outside under canvas.
They lose part of it before they can ship it.”
Evelyn frowned.
“Why hasn’t the warehouse been expanded?”
Andre shrugged.
“Nobody’s had the money.”
“Has anyone requested assistance?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at her.
“Most people here don’t know who to ask.”
Evelyn was quiet for a moment.
Then she removed a small notebook from her handbag.
Andre watched her write something down.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying not to forget what you’ve told me.”
He smiled.
“My mother used to write everything down too.”
“Then she was wise.”
They continued walking.
Near the schoolhouse, several children were leaving for home.
Willa appeared among them, carrying a stack of books almost as high as her chin.
When she noticed Andre, she waved.
“Andre!”
He waved back.
She hurried across the yard, then slowed when she saw Evelyn.
Andre smiled.
“Willa, this is Mrs.
Harrow.”
His sister looked at the older woman with open curiosity.
“The lady you helped?”
“That’s right.”
Evelyn bent slightly so they could speak more comfortably.
“And you must be the little sister who reads every book she can find.”
Willa’s eyes widened.
“He told you about me?”
“He certainly did.”
“What else did he say?”
Evelyn smiled.
“That you’re very clever, and that you want to become a teacher.”
Willa looked embarrassed.
“I might.”
“Why only might?”
“Because I don’t know if I can go to school long enough.”
Andre felt a familiar ache.
He had tried not to speak about those worries in front of her.
Evelyn’s expression remained gentle.
“Well, I hope you do.”
Willa shifted her books.
“Do you like reading?”
“Very much.”
“What’s your favorite book?”
Evelyn laughed softly.
“That’s a difficult question.”
The two began talking about stories, school lessons, and the small shelf of books inside the classroom.
Andre stood beside them, watching his little sister become more animated with every answer.
Willa was rarely shy when someone asked about books.
For a few minutes, Evelyn did not seem like a wealthy businesswoman at all.
She seemed like a grandmother enjoying a conversation with a bright child.
When Willa finally left to walk home with a friend, she turned back.
“Mrs.
Harrow?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Thank you for finding my brother again.”
Evelyn looked surprised.
“Why do you say that?”
Willa smiled.
“He was glad he helped you.”
Then she hurried away.
Evelyn watched her go.
“You have a wonderful sister,” she said.
Andre nodded.
“She’s the best thing in my life.”
They continued along the street.
Evelyn asked more about his family, and Andre gradually found himself speaking more openly.
He told her about the house his grandfather had built, his mother’s work, and the small garden Willa tried to keep alive every spring.
He mentioned the difficult winter and how many hours he had been working.
But he did not speak about the county notice.
That worry felt too personal.
By the time they reached the edge of town, the sun had begun to sink toward the mountains.
Evelyn stopped beside a wooden fence.
Beyond it, horses grazed in a field where patches of snow still covered the grass.
She looked across the land for a long while.
“My father once owned a small farm not far from here,” she said.
Andre nodded.
“You told me yesterday.”
“He worked from sunrise until dark.
We never had much, but my mother always made certain there was room at our table for visitors.”
She smiled sadly.
“I used to think every family lived that way.”
Andre listened.
“When I was young, I wanted to get away from this place,” Evelyn continued.
“I thought the world must be full of wonderful things I hadn’t seen.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“But I learned that wonderful things and valuable things aren’t always the same.”
Andre leaned against the fence.
“Did you like being wealthy?”
Evelyn considered the question.
“At first, I liked what it made possible.
I could buy better land, build stores, provide work, and travel wherever I wished.”
She paused.
“Later, I began to understand that having enough money to solve a problem doesn’t always mean you know what the problem really is.”
Andre looked toward the fields.
“That makes sense.”
“Does it?”
He nodded.
“If a horse won’t drink, buying a bigger trough doesn’t help much if the water’s frozen.”
Evelyn laughed.
“That’s an excellent example.”
Andre smiled.
For a few moments, they stood quietly together.
Then Evelyn spoke again.
“My husband and I built the business over many years.
After he passed away, I continued managing it.”
She looked down at her gloved hands.
“The work kept me busy.
Very busy.”
Andre recognized the sadness in her voice.
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
He nodded, uncertain what to say.
Evelyn continued without bitterness.
“There were people around me almost every day.
Employees, visitors, advisers, friends.
Yet sometimes an entire week would pass without anyone asking how I was feeling.”
Andre turned toward her.
“That’s sad.”
She smiled faintly.
“It can be.”
The breeze moved gently through the dry grass.
Evelyn looked at him.
“Yesterday, you didn’t know anything about me.
You simply noticed that I was cold, tired, and alone.”
Andre lowered his eyes.
“Anybody should’ve helped.”
“Perhaps.”
Her voice softened.
“But you were the one who stopped.”
He did not know what to say.
She continued.
“I have spent years surrounded by people who know the value of everything I own.
Yesterday, for a little while, I met someone who cared about me without knowing I owned anything at all.”
Andre felt warmth rise into his face.
He had never thought of his actions in that way.
He had simply seen a woman who needed help.
Evelyn placed her hand on the fence.
“That’s why I came back.”
The words remained with him as they walked toward town.
At the boardinghouse, Evelyn invited him to have supper.
Andre hesitated.
“Willa’s waiting for me.”
“Then you should go home.”
He nodded gratefully.
Evelyn thought for a moment.
“Would you and your sister come here tomorrow evening?”