Oh no, oh no, thought Fiona. What had Charlie said? Whatever it was she could see all her hard work going for nothing. This was it. It was all over. They would be split up and scattered to the winds and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“Yes, I’m Fiona.” She was suddenly unable to speak above a whisper.

“I’m Mrs. Masterson. I work for social services,” said the woman.

“Who sent you?” croaked Fiona. “Mr. Pennypacker?”

“No, it was Charlie’s friend Ashley’s mother. She was concerned about something Charlie had said to Ashley. So, I just thought I would toodle over and have a little look-see.”

Oh no, thought Fiona. Charlie, what have you done to us?

“But fortunately,” Mrs. Masterson went on, “Mr. Farber has explained it all. How the trailer next door is his office. And especially about the paperwork getting lost when your aunt unexpectedly died. My, what a lot of troubles you girls have seen! Thank goodness for Mr. Farber, as I’m sure you all say to yourselves daily.”

“Oh,” said Fiona, sitting rapidly down with weak knees onto a porch chair.

At that moment Al, Marlin, and Natasha came out carrying glasses of lemonade. Al had on a clean polo shirt and a pair of chinos. He was freshly shaved and smelled of soap. He smiled at both Fiona and Mrs. Masterson, oozing charm from every pore, and said, “Well, well, well, I see you’ve met our little Fiona. Have a lemonade, Fiona, you’re looking a mite peaked.”

“Here, take mine,” said Natasha, handing hers to Fiona and disappearing back into the house.

To hide, thought Fiona enviously.

“Fiona babysits in town for pocket money,” Al went on in syrupy tones. “Quite the entrepreneur, our Fiona.”

“How lovely, dear. That was my summer job when I was your age as well.”

“Was it?” said Al smoothly, handing Mrs. Masterson a glass. “There you go, Fiona. Play your cards right and you too can grow up to be a social worker.”

Fiona smiled dully. She knew Mrs. Masterson had no idea how mocking Al was being. His whole appearance and manner were courtly to the point of playacting.

“When I talked to your sister Marlin this morning,” said Mrs. Masterson, “she said Mr. Farber would explain everything when he got home from the store. Then he called and even invited me out to see the farm. It’s a long drive from Shoreline but I just love St. Mary’s By the Sea. So picturesque. And this farm! Beautiful old acreage and heritage buildings.”

“Oh,” said Fiona.

“Now, I’d love to stay and chat with all of you some more but I’ve had two glasses of this terrific lemonade that I hear is Marlin’s original recipe and I really do have to scoot. We’re dreadfully understaffed. Just stop in with the paperwork, Mr. Farber, next time you’re in Shoreline. No rush. At your leisure when you dig it up.”

“Will do,” said Al. “And please call me Al.”