opportunity to escape?â As she ended her explanation, she dropped her voice to a whisper.
âExcuse me just for a minute, Miss Dunn.â Nate marched into the stockroom without the slightest idea as to how to fulfill her request. He sold linens, powders, sacks of grain, and canned goods, not meals for those out for the day without a lunch hamper. He scanned burlap sacks of barley, flour, and rice; stacks of foolscap for penning letters; and kegs of apple cider and maple syrup. But he had no cookstove even if he found enough ingredients to prepare a simple meal. Nate reentered the store carrying his only solution.
He spotted Miss Dunn by the front door, assessing tins of salt and spices. âYouâll find a basin behind the counter should you like to wash.â He rolled out a clean linen cloth and poured a cup of cider. âHere you are, miss. I hope my special-of-the-day meets with your approval.â
She washed and dried her hands and then climbed onto a tall stool at the counter. âMy, this looks delicious.â Miss Dunn lifted the top piece of grainy oatmeal bread and peered at a thick slice of farmerâs cheese covered with spicy tomato relish. Holding the sandwich in both hands, she took a bite. âItâs wonderful! While I eat, why donât you explain how merchandise finds its way onto your shelves?â
Nate perched on the opposite stool. âVegetables and sacks of grain arrive in wagons from outlying farms, along with pickled meats and canned goods. I carry smoked hams, dressed turkeys and pheasants, and fresh venison whenever available. Fabric, notions, and cooking implements come by train from the west. Lately, those deliveries have been haphazard. Coffee, sugar, vanilla, and spices from abroad are becoming scarce because of the blockade, while pineapples, oranges, and bananas from the tropics arerare as snowstorms. Many residents are drinking more tea since the plantations around Charleston increased production.â
âSplendid. Colonists are returning to the favored beverage of their mother country.â
âItâs been a long time since Carolinians thought of themselves as colonists. That war is past history. Weâre smack dab in the middle of another conflict now.â Nate tried not to stare as she ate, but her creamy complexion and curvy figure beneath the dark dress drew him like a bee to nectar.
âWerenât you compelled to run off and enlist for the Glorious Cause? Our newspapers made it sound as though men were fighting for noble reasons, but taking someoneâs life is killing, plain and simple.â Miss Dunn dabbed her mouth with the napkin.
Nate felt the tiny hairs lift on his neck. âIâm no coward, if thatâs what youâre implying. I thought about signing up, but Wilmington is the center of trade for the Confederacy. If every man took up arms against the Yankees, who would be left to run the port?â He busied himself cleaning up bread crumbs. âBesides, Iâm not from around here. No one back home owned slavesâthey were too poor. I canât see the point of dying to maintain slavery. That evil practice only helps the rich get richer.â Nate locked gazes with her.
âForgive me, Mr. Cooper. It wasnât my intention to question your bravery or loyalties. In my attempt to understand the Southern culture, I have insulted you for the second time today.â
âIâve become quite adept at explaining myself.â Nate ran a hand through his hair. âAnd there isnât one Southern culture. Quality of life depends on whether youâre rich or poor, black or white. I suppose the same can be said inâ¦â
âVillage of Wycleft, outside of Manchester. And indeed that is the case.â
âWhere does your sister live, if I may inquire?â
âAbigail and Jackson Henthorne live on Third Street at the corner of Orange. Are you acquainted with