live in Millbrook,” I said. “Not commuting from the city. Living here. In town. Shopping at the IGA. Eating at the diner. Going to the bake sale.”
“Mrs. Whitaker—”
“Your year’s up in April,” I said. “Mr. Hale will offer you a promotion. Back to Des Moines. Regional something. A big office. A big raise. You’ll be able to buy a lot of suits.”
Brandon was staring at me.
“Or you can stay,” I said. “Rent a house in Millbrook. Learn to grow your own tomatoes. And sit on the board that decides whether this town keeps its bank.”
He





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