Oddly enough, the first thing that occurred to Jenny was not that she'd have to spend two, maybe three more nights alone in the house. Her first thought was the painters. She'd promised to call them tomorrow. Then she thought about being alone in the house and a shiver ran through her.

"First things first," she said out loud. She checked the number where her parents were staying and dialed it.

"Mom, hi, I just got Dad's message."

"And you've called to offer your condolences, I hope." Mrs. Fowler sounded harried, to say the least. "These people! They actually want us to include that gorgeous lighting fixture in the asking price!"

**What gorgeous lighting fixture?"

"The one in the dining room. The one from Italy?" Jenny's mother made it sound as if she'd made a special trip to Italy just to buy it, when she'd actually found it at a neighborhood garage sale. It wasn't gorgeous, either, not in Jenny's opinion. It was kind of hideous, now that she thought about it -- lots of fat globes that needed dusting all the time.

**Well, I'm sure you'll work it out," Jenny said.

*Tou sound like your father," Mrs. Fowler sighed. "The lamp isn't the only thing they want, you know."

"Okay, well then, call off the deal," Jenny suggested.

Her mother gasped. "Do you realize what that would mean?" she asked. "The real estate market isn't exactly booming here; if we don't sell it now, we'll. . ."

"Mom!" Jenny broke in. "I didn't call about the house. I called about the painters."

That got Mrs. Fowler's attention. "All right," she said, as if expecting the worst. "Let me have it."

"It's highway robbery," she announced when Jenny had finished. "But tell them we agree. Of course, if this house deal falls through, we'll just

have to live with sahnon walls for the next twenty years."

Jenny swallowed a laugh and decided not to mention that they could do the painting themselves. Which would be a lot better than having that creep McPherson in the house. But her mother obviously wasn't in the mood for solutions. She was enjoying the problems too much.

"Well." Mrs. Fowler sighed again. "Anything else?"

"That's all," Jenny said. No need to mention headless snakes and sleepless nights. Her mother would pooh-pooh the whole thing as the product of somebody's small mind, not worthy of worry. And she'd be right, Jenny told herself firmly. "Just let me know when you'll be coming back so I can meet you."

"Oh, we will. If we ever do get back." On that optimistic note, her mother said she had to go. Back to the battle, Jenny supposed.

As soon as she hung up, the thought of the empty house leaped into her mind, but she pushed it away. Busy, she decided. She'd keep so busy she wouldn't have time to get scared.

First she called McPherson & Son, left word on their answering machine that the Fowlers of Rimrock would be ready to have them start painting as soon as possible, and asked them to call back and tell her the exact date.