“I could go later in the summer. My cousin won’t mind. It’s not as if we have anything special planned. Just our usual traipsing around the backroads of Maine.”

“No. Don’t cancel. I’ll be back up to speed before you leave.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.” She passed over the container. “I wanted to drop this off for you on my way to the office. It’s homemade chicken-rice soup with vegetables. More healing than any medicine you could take.”

She’d gone to the trouble to make him soup?

Pressure built in his throat at the act of kindness. “Thank you. I appreciate this more than I can say.”

She shrugged, but a tiny blush crept over her cheeks. “It was my pleasure. Besides, I have to keep my mocha Monday provider healthy.” One corner of her mouth twitched.

A positive sign.

It had taken five months, but perhaps his concerted effort to break down the barriers between employees at different levels in the department—and to win her over—was finally paying dividends.

“I’ll enjoy every spoonful.”

“Stay home until you get back on your feet. We’ll keep the place running.”

Without waiting for a reply, she descended the two steps from his front porch and hurried toward her car.

Nate closed the door and trudged into the kitchen, weighing the soup in his hand. Tangible proof that decent, kind people did exist despite the violence and hate and lawlessness he spent his days battling.

Not a bad start to this Tuesday.

And while soup wasn’t a typical breakfast item, all of a sudden it seemed like the perfect meal to break his flu-induced fast. It was time to get real food into his stomach.

It was also time to give Grace a call, let her know he was returning to the land of the living, and get a new date on the calendar for their dinner at the romantic lakeside restaurant.

As soon as he downed a bowl of Eleanor’s soup and took a much-needed shower.

The foxglove test done on the contents of Mavis’s stomach had come back in the normal range. She hadn’t been poisoned with digitalis.

Stifling her disappointment, Grace maneuvered her car around a slow-moving tractor as she responded to Russ’s news. “I appreciate you letting me know the results as soon as you got them.”

“I know you were hoping this would prove Mullins’s claim that these people were murdered, but as far as I can tell, we’re back to square one.”

Not quite.

Yesterday, the forensic botanist had confirmed receipt of the sample she’d sent on Friday, promising to give it top priority after Grace filled her in on the multiple deaths under investigation.

Of course, if a non-botanical type of poison had been used, they really were back to square one.

“I’m still noodling on a few ideas, Russ. Have you passed this information on to Nate yet?”

“No. Next call. You know we don’t have the budget to go chasing after a bunch of half-baked theories, right?”