Even at that, watching as carefully as he could, he wouldn’t have known he had arrived if the fan belt hadn’t broken again right in front of Solomon’s General Store, which turned out to be the heart and soul of Shalimar, Virginia.
Milkman walked back toward Solomon’s store. He needed a place to stay, some information, and a woman, not necessarily in that order.
His watch and his two hundred dollars would be of no help out here, where all a man had was what he was born with, or had learned to use. And endurance.