I took my time approaching Dad’s van. I had misgivings about the whole idea of involving Grandfather in the skunk removal. Yes, he was a seasoned zoologist, but he’d also spent years filming nature documentaries. No documentary about skunks would be complete without showing how they sprayed their would-be attackers. And that was precisely what we wanted to avoid. What if Grandfather forgot, even momentarily, that there weren’t any cameras rolling?

Dad had left the van running, obviously so the heat would stay on. Grandfather had reclined the front passenger seat as far as it would go and was fast asleep and snoring vigorously.

“Grandfather?” I touched his shoulder gently.

He started upright.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked. “Where’s James?”

“Dad went to the hospital with his patient,” I said.

“Well, take me home, then,” he said. “Nothing to see here. So much for your big exciting fire. Should have stayed in bed and taken care of my cold.”

“I can take you right away,” I said. “Unless you feel up to helping us with a wildlife problem.”

“Ah! What’s the problem?” He unfastened his seatbelt and buttoned up his coat.

“Skunks. There are skunks in the church.”

“Impossible.”

“Impossible?” Couldn’t he smell them? Oh—the head cold. I wasn’t sure whether to order him back into bed or envy him his apparent immunity to the prevailing stench.

“Or at least highly unlikely,” he continued, as he reached over and pulled the seatbelt back across his body. “They’d all be asleep.”

“You mean skunks hibernate?”

“No, but they sleep a lot more in the winter. Especially when it’s cold. And with this much snow on the ground, they’d probably be snowed in their dens. Sleeping the weather out. Someone probably just saw a black-and-white cat.” He closed his eyes and appeared to be settling back to continue his nap.

“Well, then we’ve got a whole cage of black-and-white cats, and at least one of them did a pretty good imitation of a skunk. Good enough to fool Mr. Dandridge into thinking he’d been sprayed in the eyes.”

Grandfather opened one eye.

“Good enough to fool Dad into taking Mr. Dandridge down to the hospital to see an ophthalmologist.”

Grandfather made a growling noise.

“Well, that could be, then,” he said. “And they wouldn’t like it if someone dragged them out of their dens in weather like this. And if you woke them up, they’d be downright peeved.”

Apparently they weren’t the only ones.

“So do you want to see the peeved skunks or do you want to go back to your den and sleep the weather out?”

He reached over, pulled a tissue from a box on the floor, and blew his nose. Then his eyes lit up.