She was a squat woman with black cropped bangs. Her dark eyes set in a square face were partially distorted by thick glasses as she squinted toward L.C. “Yes?” “It’s L.C. Converse, Mrs. Strickland. I wonder if I could talk to Herb a minute?” Recognition finally passed over the other woman’s face. “Oh, L.C., of course. Come in. We were just going out for dinner, but if it’s something important, Herb is back with the pigs.” At the mention of dinner L.C. had pangs of conscience. She could see Will sitting at the End of the Pier staring morosely into his cocktail as she flounced out. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” “No, come in. Please.” They sat rather formally in the room with the piggy banks. Herb offered and then mixed highballs in glasses filled to the brim with ice and ginger ale. “I didn’t know you were back from Florida, Toby.” “I only got back this afternoon. I detest flying, so I drove Dad’s car back and it took me almost three days.” “I told her to stay down as long as she wanted,”
