“Taking handouts, even a little thing like an after-six long-distance call, wasn’t her way. The operator got her directory assistance for Maine and Charity asked for Alva Thornton’s number in Castle Rock. A few moments later, Alva’s phone was ringing. “Hello, Thornton’s Egg Farms.” “Hi, Bessie?” “Ayuh, ’tis.” “This is Charity Camber. I’m calling from Connecticut. Is Alva right around handy?” Brett sat on the sofa, pretending to read a book. “Gee, Charity, he ain’t. He’s got his bowlin league t’n...ight. They’re all over to the Pondicherry Lanes in Bridgton. Somethin wrong?” Charity had carefully and consciously decided what she was going to say. The situation was a bit delicate. Like almost every other married woman in Castle Rock (and that was not to necessarily let out the single ones), Bessie loved to talk, and if she found out that Joe Camber had gone shooting off somewhere without his wife’s knowledge as soon as Charity and Brett had left to visit her sister in Connecticut . . .MoreLessRead More Read Less
It good but u have to number the books but the cujo I know got bitt by a bunny or a squirrel that what I remember and got rabies and his mom passed out
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