She Defended a Lonely Biker, and Her Town Never Saw It Coming

empty that morning.

Now motorcycles lined Main Street like silver beads on black string, and every few minutes another rider walked in holding flowers or a card or cash or nothing at all except an appetite and gratitude.

Naomi saw Mrs. Worthington first.

She was standing under the awning of the closed dress shop, one hand on her purse strap, lips pressed continue reading …