She dispensed sage wisdom to everyone in town atop two wooden orange crates that sat behind a rickety card table filled with cakes, pies, and fresh squeezed lemonade. The first time they met her, she caught a boy trying to steal a slice of chess pie from her table. She reached for the chinaberry switch next to the aluminum foil, smacking the boy s hand until the pie fell. The two stared at the elderly woman, pointing in unison to the blackberry cobbler. I knowed Tiny and Annette Coefield since they was younguns living up on Robinson Hill.
Lemonade is a quarter a cup.
Everybody else round here do. She gazed at Rosalyn. Sweetie, take them shades off. I sell my cobbler. Fear crammed the tips of her fingers as she pulled the shades past her nose.