Sitting down at her desk, she realized how foolish she’d been. She jumped when Ruthie asked her if Ted had liked the story.

“I think so. We talked for quite a while; I was asking about Barney. Did I miss anything?” Lucy hoped her nervousness didn’t show.

“Mrs. Murgatroyd in Sioux Falls is not happy with the Dipsy-Tipsy bird feeder her son gave her for Christmas.”

“No?” asked Lucy. “Why not?”

“The squirrels still get the bird seed,” Ruthie told her. “She wants to return it for a refund.”

“And what did you tell her?” asked Lucy.

“Just pack it in the original carton, if possible, and include the original invoice, please,” recited Ruthie. “We will be happy to refund the entire purchase price. At Country Cousins, we’re not happy unless you are.”

“Very good,” said Lucy. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Only nine?” Lucy was incredulous.

“Sorry. Want to balance my checkbook for me?”

“No. I guess I’ll make up my grocery list.”

Lucy thought her shift would never end. By the time the clock buzzed at one A.M. she was exhausted, twice as tired as she would have been if she’d been busy.

As she drove home along the dark, lonely roads, she kept thinking of Barney, driving along a similar country road on Christmas night. Had a shot suddenly exploded into the darkness, causing him to jump reflexively and swerve right off the road, through the black emptiness and into the trees? Had George fired that shot?

Lucy pulled the car up as close to the house as she could and ran straight into the kitchen without pausing to look, as she usually did, at the night sky.

Reaching the safety of the kitchen, she leaned against the door for a moment, panting, and then turned the lock.

Tiptoeing upstairs, she checked to make sure the kids were safely asleep. Reassured, she went back downstairs and heated some milk for herself. She knew she’d have a hard time getting to sleep.

As she sat at the kitchen table, sipping her hot milk and whiskey, Lucy tried to relax. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t control her thoughts. She kept thinking of the ugly black gun in George’s drawer, and poor Barney, his car spinning out of control and plummeting through the darkness to the rocks below.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

#4263 Handmade by a native Maine craftsman, this earthenware jam pot is decorated with a charming blueberry design. Complete with wooden spoon. $18.

In Maine the winter sun is very bright, and on Friday morning it poured through the kitchen windows, turning the oak table into a golden pool. The three children were sitting with their backs to the window; the morning sun seemed to give them halos. Lucy was not impressed.

“Eat your oatmeal,” she advised them.