Two Shiffleys were each holding one end of a small stack of long boards and looking down at a small toolbox lying on the floor with some of its contents spilled out. Clearly the metal tools were the source of the clanking noises.

“What’s up?” I said.

They both jumped when I spoke, and then relaxed.

“We thought you were him for a minute,” one said.

“Let’s get the rest of this stuff loaded before he does come out again,” the other one said.

“Meg, could you put that toolbox on top of the boards?” the first asked.

“She’s injured,” the other said. “You can’t ask her to—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I can do it one-handed.” I put down my stuff, dumped the tools back in the box, and set it as securely as possible on top of the boards.

“Thanks,” one of them said.

“Come on,” the other said, looking around nervously. “Let’s go before he comes out here again.”

I followed them out. They thanked me again as they threw the boards and then the kit roughly into the back of a Shiffley Construction Company truck. Then they roared off before I’d finished stowing my stuff in the car.

Had Lightfoot unnerved them so much? Or something else?

I shoved the thought aside, got into the car, and headed for home.

Chapter 12

It was snowing again, so I decided maybe it was a good thing I’d been distracted before I took another pill. The ride home promised to be a little slippery.

But I did enjoy the part of it that led through the town square of Caerphilly. Nearly every building was decorated, some with tasteful wreaths and natural evergreens, others with twinkling lights. The county’s annual holiday parade had already taken place, but many of the floats had been installed as decorations in the town square, at the foot of the county’s living Christmas tree, a specially planted Colorado blue spruce that, according to Randall, was “just a smidgen shorter than the national Christmas tree.”

I was pleased to see that the town square was still covered with snow. If the snow didn’t melt by Christmas Eve, Randall would set the plows to clearing out a space at the foot of the Christmas tree so the crowds could gather to watch the living Nativity pageant across the street at the Methodist church and then gather around the county tree for the community carol sing. But for now, the large expanse of snow, unbroken except for occasional footprints from birds or foxes, was magical.