"Wait just one minute-" Russ began.

"What do you think, Ms. Hodgden? Would that be legal?"

"Well… if you're willing to fill out the paperwork."

Clare turned to the McGeochs. "Would you consider taking him on when he's recovered?"

Janet and Mike gave each other another speaking look. "Okay," Janet said.

"Clare. For chrissakes, you're going off half-cocked again." Russ shoved his thumbs under his belt and tightened his hands over his rig. "He could be anybody. He could be wanted in three countries, for all you know."

Paula Hodgden shook her head. "Mmm, no. In order to obtain an H-two A permit, the applicant must have no criminal record in either the originating or the host country."

Russ glared at the ICE agent, then returned his attention to Clare. "He's not going to be able to do custodial work with a bum arm. And what if he boosts the silver and takes off?"

"Most of Mr. Hadley's work is stuff like vacuuming and polishing the woodwork. You can do that with one arm as well as two. As for the silver, I keep it locked away except when it's in use." She let her usual light Virginia accent deepen into molasses. "I am a Southerner, after all. We know how to preserve our silver from depredation."

"Where's he going to stay? Hmm? Are you going to pay for a room for him?"

She bit her lip. As much as it galled her to admit it, she hadn't considered that issue.

"You see?" Russ went on. "You can't-"

"There are two extra bedrooms in the rectory," she said, thinking out loud.

"No." The word was like a lodge pole driven into the ground. Immovable. She looked up at his grim face.

"No," she agreed. "That's not the best idea, is it."

"Why can't he stay in our bunkhouse?" Mike's voice startled her. She had tuned the rest of them out. She looked at the dairy farmer. "Well, it's not a-you know-western-style bunkhouse." He smiled shyly. "It's the original house on the property. Way back from the road, down by the stream. Hadn't been lived in by anything but squirrels and chickens for the last hundred years, and let me tell you, it was a job making it habitable again."

"Honey." Janet laid her hand on her husband's arm. She smiled apologetically to Clare. "We have the house all cleaned and repaired for the new hands. He would be welcome to stay there, but I'm afraid he'd have no way of getting to work."

"No, no, that's what makes it perfect." Mike beamed at Clare. "The lady who bought the Petersons' house, the house across the road? She works at your church. Her name's Elizabeth de Groot."

Clare felt her jaw unhinge. She stared up at Russ. "My deacon lives across the street from your sister?"

He shrugged. "I told you it's a small town."

The agent held up her clipboard. "This is all very interesting, but perhaps, while they hash out the housing arrangements, I might have a word, Chief Van Alstyne?" She retreated toward the admissions desk.

Russ looked at his sister, then at Clare, then back to his sister. "Don't agree to anything," he said to Janet. "You have no idea what you'll be getting into." He stalked off like a mood-reversed Cheshire Cat, leaving his frown hanging in the air between them.

"I can get Elizabeth to carry Amado back and forth if you'll let him live in the bunkhouse," Clare said, hurrying to close the deal before Janet decided to take her brother's advice.

"What do think, honey?" Janet asked her husband.

Mike shrugged. "Not like it's going to be too full now, is it?"

"Okay, then." Janet held out her hand to Clare.

"Great." They shook. Janet laid her other hand atop Clare's, trapping her in a warm grasp. "Honey?" She kept her gaze on Clare. "Could you go get me something from the cafeteria? I'm starving."

"Uh… okay." Mike bumped off down the hall. Leaving Clare alone with Janet McGeoch, née Van Alstyne. Clare swallowed.

"I've heard a lot about you." Janet's eyes were the same blue as Russ's.

Oh, God. Better take the bull by the horns. "I bet you have," Clare said. "Some of it's probably even true."

Janet nodded. Released Clare's hand. "I have to apologize to you."

Now that was surprising. "To me? Why?"

"When my mom told me about you and Russ, I sort of mentally cast you in the role of bimbo home wrecker. You know, the much-younger seductress who wears Victoria's Secret thongs and nails the middle-aged idiot by massaging his ego. Among other body parts."

Clare thought she might spontaneously combust from the heat in her face.

"But it's pretty obvious you're not like that."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "No. No thongs."

Janet smiled slyly. "And I don't see you spending a lot of time massaging my brother's ego."

Clare laughed. And then Janet surprised her again by catching her in a hug. "My mother likes you," she said in Clare's ear, "and I think I like you, too." She moved a little way apart, creating a space between them. "And if you can rescue my brother from this pit he's dropped himself into, I swear, I'll love you forever."

It was close to midnight, and he was halfway back to his mother's house, when Russ realized he hadn't thought of Linda in hours. Since… since when? This morning? This afternoon? Panic, like a meaty hand, gripped his throat. Since before stopping at the liquor store. He hadn't thought of her once since then. He had forgotten to remember. He steered the pickup to the shoulder of the road and got his four-ways on before the tears blinded him and he buckled over, hacking, the steering wheel cutting a groove in his forehead. He wept for his wife, and for forgetting, and for all the things he had loved and damaged.

Her car gave out on the Schuylerville Road. At night, of course. At least five miles from the Stewart's on Route 117. No, Stewart's didn't have a garage, did they? Just pumps.

Hadley tipped her head back against the seat and breathed slowly and deeply. I am not going to fall apart. She was going to count her blessings. It was a 45-degree night in mid-May, instead of a 15-degree night in mid-February. The kids were safe at home, hopefully, please God, not harassing their greatgrandfather into complete exhaustion. She was-her mind went blank. She couldn't think of anything. She tried again. It was-

Nope. That was it. She ran out of blessings after two. She opened her purse and dug out her cell phone-prepaid, thirty cents a minute-and dialed home. It picked up on the fourth ring.

"Knox and Hadley household Hudson speaking may I help you please," her son said.

"Hey, lovey, it's Mom. Can you put Granddad on?"

"Okay, Mom. How was police school?"

"We learned about crime scenes tonight, just like on TV. I got some yellow tape from the instructor for you."

"Cool! Are you coming home soon?"

"As soon as I can." In her rearview window, she saw lights. She leaned over and locked the passenger and driver's doors. This is what becoming a cop was doing to her. Nowadays, she assumed every car on the road held a potential threat. She hadn't been that paranoid in big bad LA.

"Hey, honey, what's up?"

She sighed. "My car's not working. Can you call someone to give me a tow? I'm on the Schuylerville Road, about a mile from Route 117."

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I don't know. All the warning lights came on and then it just sort of… lost power. I'm fine, I just glided off the side of the road."

"Humph. You stay put. I'll pop the kids into my car and we'll come and get you."

"No, no, no." God, no. Her grandfather had terrible night vision. Not to mention the assorted drugs he was taking. "It's already close to nine. It's a school night. I don't want Hudson and Genny up late. Call someplace in town. I'll wait here with the car and get a ride home on the tow truck."