Mary Beth imagined him with his friends somewhere, baiting a hook and drifting around in a boat. It was harder to imagine him climbing into it with a broken leg, even though it had pretty much healed and he was sporting a soft cast he could take on and off.

She looked out the window for a few moments, the silent phone in her hands. Then she put it away and got out, picking up a few crumpled napkins and wrappers from the interior.

With a little luck, she could head for the kitchen and dispose of the handful of trash, then sneak up the rear stairs again. Mary Beth needed to put up her feet for a while more than she needed a gabfest.

She made it to the guest bedroom without being seen, heading for the divan, an overstuffed pink confection that she’d been meaning to try out.

Mary Beth kicked off her shoes.

Lulled by the soft chirping of the ever-present birds and the faint hum of insects, she dozed off. When she awoke refreshed, it was late afternoon. The sound of muted conversation reached her through the window she’d opened.

Alma and Sheila were still at it.

She ought to put in an appearance.

Mary Beth rose and walked to the dresser, running a brush through her hair. She pulled it into a snug ponytail that was presentable enough, then went into the bathroom and splashed a little cold water on her face.

She went downstairs, not bothering to be quiet about it, just in case she had become a topic of conversation. The old stairs creaked helpfully. Sheila was laughing about something, but she stopped.

“That you, Mary Beth?”

“Yes it is.” She reached the first floor and went directly into the living room. Since the flea market sale, there were far fewer boxes to negotiate around. Shep and Beau were snoozing in front of the fireplace, their muzzles resting on the cool flagstones.

“You look refreshed,” Alma said.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Mary Beth said, smiling. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I felt this relaxed.”

“Glad to hear it.” Sheila beamed at her. “Now, I think I just persuaded Alma to come to the flea market with me tomorrow.”

“She says there’s a party tent over the stall with her stuff to keep off the sun,” Alma added. “And I can have my pick of the armchairs for sale if I get tired. Give me a feather duster and I’ll do the trinkets before the customers come.”

“Absolutely not,” Sheila said imperiously. “There’s no need to make yourself useful. Want to come, Mary Beth?”

Mary Beth hesitated. “Would it be very rude of me to say no?”

“Not at all.” Sheila’s sunny graciousness put Mary Beth at ease. “What would you like to do here?”

“I don’t know,” Mary Beth answered honestly.