Manfred nodded and left. As he walked back to his house, he thought, Shawn Lovell is one tense guy. I guess like everyone else here, he’s got a secret. Manfred was almost tempted to try to forget about Creek Lovell and her smooth skin and her intelligent eyes. Getting past her dad was going to be a piece of work. I should locate the nearest honky-tonk and meet a woman my own age, he thought, but the idea was kind of ridiculous. He was not much of a bar person. He liked parties well enough, but he didn’t know anyone in this area who’d invite him. He was not a churchgoer, he was not political, and he knew all too well the perils of meeting someone online.

Especially since Creek was so wonderful.

He shook himself. This was a circular train of thought and he had work to do. Manfred put the Coca-Cola in the refrigerator, the graham crackers on the shelf that served as his pantry, and the Slim Jims he slid into the drawer of his desk as emergency rations.

His phone rang, and he picked it up. “Bernardo the psychic,” he said. “Yes, Anita Lynn, tell me what’s troubling you today.” He settled in to listen. He noticed absently that the tree outside his east window was moving in the wind.

Across the street, that brisk wind was causing Fiji trouble. Her curly hair blew around her head like a light brown nimbus, and she couldn’t see a thing. She was kneeling next to the rose bed that ran around the low back porch, snipping the deadheads off the bushes. This was the last time she’d have to perform the task this year. Before long, the first frost would fall, and she’d prune the roses down for the winter and cover the soil with pine straw or hay.

Soon, very soon, she had to start putting out her elaborate Halloween decorations. What costume should she wear this year?

She was trying to think about anything besides Aubrey Hamilton Lowry.

“Fiji,” called a voice, and she was surprised, when she swiveled around and looked up, to see Bobo standing to her left. He’d come around the side of the house. His blond hair was blowing in the wind like hers, but his eyes were surrounded by dark circles and his clothes hung as though he’d lost ten pounds in the past two days. He looked like hell warmed over.

“Come have a seat on the back porch,” she said, trying to sound easy and natural. “I just got a little more to go.” Self-consciously, she bent again to finish her task, all too aware she was presenting her posterior to his view.