Then she listened for a response. And waited for him to come to the door.

But Lendall didn’t respond. Or come to the door.

Gayle figured he must not have heard her.

He was definitely sleeping.

So she pounded again—three times—and yelled, “Lendall!”

This time, Lendall heard Gayle and jumped a little as he woke up. Gayle was right: he had fallen asleep in his La-Z-Boy, watching the Bruins game.

Lendall checked the time. His watch said it was 8:39.

He wondered why Gayle was there. He had kissed her good night after Gayle got Country Swing up and running, and then Gayle headed over to Sandrine’s bachelorette party, and Lendall headed home, because he had to be up early. He wanted to get a couple of hours of work in on Marvalyn and Eric’s roof in the morning, because the rest of his Saturday was going to be taken up with Clair Gudreau’s funeral and the St. Pierre/LaFerriere wedding. So he was planning on falling asleep early with the Bruins game on.

Gayle pounded on the door twice more and yelled, “Lendall!” and Lendall wondered why she was pounding on the door. “Gayle, just come in!” he called as he tried to get out of his chair—which took some effort. Lendall was thirty-seven and all the years he had worked in construction were taking their toll.

While he worked on getting himself up and out of his La-Z-Boy, Gayle waited on the porch, facing the door, her hands on her hips. And then she pounded on the door five more times and yelled louder, “Lendall!!!”

Lendall wondered why she was being so loud. The closest neighbors were far enough away that none of them would hear. But—still.

“Gayle! Just come in!” called Lendall again, a little irked that Gayle was making him get up and let her in. They didn’t live together, but his place was hers and her place was his. So she could just let herself in like she usually did.

When he finally managed to extricate himself from his chair, he shook off his drowsiness, turned off the TV, and switched on the lamp on the end table by his La-Z-Boy.

Gayle pounded on the door again and yelled, “Lendall!!!”

Worried that something was wrong, Lendall hustled over to his front door. He usually used his back door, but he had been remodeling his kitchen for the past three years, and the back door was inaccessible. Contractors have to meet deadlines for their customers, so they never meet them for their own projects. Plus, the last thing they want to do in their spare time is what they do for a living.

Gayle pounded again as Lendall flicked on the porch light. And then the seal of the weather stripping popped as he pulled open his front door. Gayle folded her arms and started pacing as Lendall pushed the white aluminum-and-glass storm door open and asked, “What? What’s goin’ on? What’s wrong?”

Gayle stopped pacing and turned to Lendall.