Andrew helped her into the shower, and dried her hair with the blow dryer while she sat on the closed toilet lid. It felt amazing to be clean. Daily showers were hard when she ran fevers or didn’t have the energy to get up. Showers were as wonderful as they were tiring.

“I think Buttons needs to check things out too,” she said as Andrew took her arm, walking her to the front door.

“You’re right. He told me last night he needs more beer anyway. I’ll let him pick it out.”

Andrew stopped the second they stepped onto the modest porch, staring at the car.

“What is it?” she asked, gripping him by the elbow with both hands.

“Looks like I got away just in time. That moose must have rubbed his antlers or his dirty butt all over the car.”

It was then she noticed the streaks of mud on the driver’s-side window, hood and roof. Smeared swirls of dirt and grime coated that side of the car.

“That must have been one dirty moose,” she said, snickering.

“Good thing they have one of those self car washes in town. Jesus, what a mess.”

Buttons sniffed the mud, barked once, tail wagging, and hopped into the back.

As Andrew walked Kate to the passenger side, she took special note of one of the mud smears on the car’s hood.

It almost looked like a handprint.

* * *

Kate and Buttons stayed in the car while Andrew cleaned it, the powerful hose splattering the caked mud into the rainbowed mist. When he was done, he jogged to a vending machine and came back with a Christmas tree air freshener. He gave it to her.

“Pine scent,” she said. “Really? Everything already smells like pine up here.”

“Save it for when we go back home. It’ll remind us of Maine.”

He turned onto the two-lane Main Street, headed toward the quaint town. “I wish I’d grown up here,” she said, staring out the window.

They passed an old Victorian house that had a for sale sign on the front lawn. The bay window of the house was filled with very old porcelain dolls.

“Now that’s creepy,” Kate said. Andrew slowed the car to take a better look.

“Not the best sales ploy,” Andrew said. “Unless there’s a market for people looking for homes filled with sinister-looking dolls.”

Several had red, white, and blue dresses, holding tattered flags in hands missing fingers.

“At least they’re patriotic,” Kate joked.

“Salute them bye-bye.”

Down the block was an ice cream shop advertising the best curly fries in town. Kate wondered how many other places were making and selling curly fries in Bridge Mills. Were curly fries a thing in New England? She knew lobster was huge up here. Too bad she refused to eat something that looked like a cockroach from hell.