“There’s no posted address. Hold on and my assistant will provide directions. I advise you to write them down carefully, word for word. The roads up here are tricky, and the lakes are deep. And very cold. You wouldn’t want to get lost.”

The warning was almost comical.

Almost.

By the time he’d copied down the Lake Sorrow directions and returned to the kitchen, Kim and Kyle were on their way down through the low pasture on the BSA. A pale sun was breaking through the thinning overcast, and the bike’s chrome was glittering.

Gurney’s mind shot off into a branching pattern of anxious what-ifs—interrupted by the sound of a hanger dropping on the floor in the mudroom.

“Maddie?”

“Yes?” A moment later she appeared at the mudroom door, dressed more conservatively than usual—which is to say, less like a rainbow.

“Where are you off to?”

“Where do you think I might be off to?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“What day is today?”

“Friday?”

“And?”

“And? Ah. Right. One of your group things at the clinic.”

She stood there looking at him with one of her complex expressions that seemed to contain elements of amusement, exasperation, love, concern.

“Do you need me to do anything regarding the insurance?” she asked. “Or do you want to take care of it? I assume we have to call someone?”

“Right. I guess our broker in town. I’ll find out.” It was a simple chore that had come and gone from his mind several times since the previous evening. “In fact, I’ll do it now before I forget.”

She smiled. “Whatever is happening, we’ll get through it. You know that, don’t you?”

He laid the directions to Lake Sorrow on the table, went over and hugged her, kissed her cheek and neck, then just held her tightly. She returned the hug, pressing her body against him in a way that made him wish she weren’t leaving for work.

She stepped back, looked in his eyes, and laughed—just a small laugh, an affectionate murmur of a laugh. Then she turned and went through the short hallway to the side door and out to her car.

He stared out the window until her car was well out of sight.

It was then that his gaze fell on a piece of notepaper that had been Scotch-taped to the wall above the sideboard. There was a short sentence written on it in pencil. He leaned closer and recognized Kyle’s handwriting.

It said, “Don’t forget your birthday card.” Under this was a little arrow pointing downward. On the sideboard directly below it was the blue envelope that had been attached to Gurney’s gift. The distinctive Tiffany blue brought back his uncomfortable feeling about Kyle’s need to spend that kind of money.