“I know it’s an imposition,” Karen said. I looked up to find her staring at my face with an expression of desperation, almost panic. “There just isn’t anyone else I can trust. Meg, please, take care of Timmy for me.”

“Of course,” I said. “But what’s going on, anyway? You seem—”

“Timmy, honey!” Karen said. I glanced down to see that Timmy had awakened.

“You remember Aunt Meg, don’t you, Timmy?” Karen cooed.

I didn’t think it likely, myself, and Timmy didn’t waste much time trying to place me. His bright little eyes were already busily exploring the surroundings and he was squirming as if the rest of him couldn’t wait to follow.

I glanced around and felt a sharp twinge of protective anxiety about my workspace. “Let’s go up to the house,” I said. “This really isn’t the best place to turn a kid loose.”

“Good idea,” Karen said. The protectiveness on her face was aimed at Timmy, but at least we saw eye to eye about the fact that Timmy and my blacksmithing tools were not a match made in heaven.

“Let me shut things down here and I’ll join you,” I said. As Karen wheeled Timmy out, I turned off the gas to my forge and looked from it to my still depleted stock of merchandise.

“Just for a little while,” I said, echoing Karen’s words. I allowed myself to feel a moment of resentment that something was interrupting me just as I was finally settling down to do some real work.

But a shriek from outside broke into my moment of self pity, and I rushed out to see what was wrong.

Two

“Don’t worry,” Dad was saying. “It’s perfectly safe.”

Karen wasn’t still shrieking, but she was clutching Timmy with a fierce grip and staring at Dr. Blake, who had a six-foot green snake draped over his shoulders. Timmy, now released from the stroller, was staring at the snake with rapt attention. For that matter, so was Karen, but she didn’t look nearly as happy as Timmy did.

“It’s an Emerald Tree Boa,” Dad said. “They’re not poisonous. They grab their prey and swallow it alive.”

Karen clutched Timmy a little harder.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Blake said. “She rarely eats anything larger than a squirrel. And she ate only two days ago. She’s still busy digesting that meal.”

“And she lives at the zoo,” I said. “Why is she digesting over here instead of in her own pen, and how quickly will she be going home to digest in peace and quiet? You know how Mother feels about having snakes around the house.”

“She’s having a very difficult shed,” Dad said. “We need to help her through it, so we brought her over here to keep an eye on while we’re working.”

“Of course, if you suffer from ophidiphobia,” Blake said. “That’s—”

“I know—fear of snakes,” I said. “No, I have no problem with reptiles, but if you value your tree boa, I’d keep a good grip on her. Because I bet Timmy would love to play with a snake—”