“How dare you,” and “Guineas” and “my house” were barked out in repetition as Vivian circled the dishrag over the dishes in the sink. The volume of Edward’s tirades never registered above a five on the dial, but that was almost worse than if they’d come at full blast. The anger and venom didn’t have anywhere to go, just stopped themselves up inside Edward, or else trickled out of his mouth in little bits of invisible hateful slime.

Vivian scrubbed at the dried ketchup Stroganoff, the thickened glops just as stubborn as the smirk she refused to wipe from her lips. Edward stayed put in his chair in the living room, griping and swearing in her direction. Judging from the way Dominic Tomasetti helped Maria into the car, and how he helped her down the steps, Vivian guessed he probably never swore at her. She knew people. A couple of lovebirds, those two. She could just picture them, walking all lovey-dovey, arm in arm down the street, cooing sweet nothings. The Tomasettis respected each other.

“Ha,” she scoffed, and slapped the dishrag over the faucet. Respect. She fished around the cooling dishwater for stray silverware and measuring spoons. Respect meant not lying to someone about something, now, didn’t it? Vivian pulled the plug from the drain, leaned against the sink, and pursed her lips as she wiped her hands on the dry dish towel and thought about Maria’s lie about the spaghetti sauce. Now, there were lies and there were LIES. Maria’d at least told her the truth tonight.

“Hmph.” Vivian snapped the dish towel through the air in the direction of the living room.

The music from the record player grew louder above her and Vivian knew Charlotte was trying to drown out the sounds of her father’s low snarling anger. Vivian hung the dish towel over its iron bar, whipped off her apron, and stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Maybe tonight would be the night she would finally confront him. If he pushed her, she might. But as she removed her rooster brooch and placed it back into her jewelry box, she remembered her brilliant idea. The one about finding information. Get into it, get under it, poke around in the corners. Find every little bit.

Chapter 14

Not being found had become a way of life for Flora Parker and Gilbert Ogden, who were now considered “criminals” and “at large” following the embezzlement of the Wayne Building & Loan last June. And Flora would’ve agreed. Canada was indeed large. It was so odd to her that it was a completely separate country from the United States. She had been expecting something much different. But the people were the same, the language was the same, except for maybe a few extra vowels here and there, the cars and houses and buildings and streets were the same. The only thing really different was the money. The downside was that they’d lost about three thousand dollars with the exchange rate, but that was a small price to pay for a little more safety.