RILEY

It’s been a week now since we buried little Catherine Aubrey and even though my heart is still aching like crazy, my mind is starving to move ahead, heal and see the healing begin all around me. Good concept … in theory. Oddly enough, the only person around the Inn who seems to be handling things well is Natalie. Maybe it was a blessing, having Chelsea so small and still in need of her mother.

Some of the family from out of town had stuck around, most oddly among them … Maximus. He spent his days over at Pullo and Skinner’s vineyard, advising, discussing the hybrid seedlings and helping with the plans for winery function. Apparently, making several kinds of wine and having only ten massive vats required careful planning. But when Maximus wasn’t at the vineyard, he was either on the phone with Sophia or watching Natalie move around the Inn like a ghost. If I’m sensing she’s not as okay as she wants us to think, I can just imagine what Maximus is sensing. He looks like he’s desperate to help her and I’m more than curious to see how the General will accomplish that goal … and knowing Maximus … he will accomplish the goal.

A storm front swept through leaving nearly two feet of skier’s delight. The snow has been a boon for us Vermont Innkeepers and we’re booked solid. Thankfully none of the reservations for the new addition are set until after Thanksgiving, and that makes for a very busy few weeks for me. This morning I need to do an inspection of all the new rooms and suites for the paint, wallpaper and carpeting as well as window treatments that went up yesterday. The only room finished and furnished down to bedding, towels and fresh flowers is the magnificent bridal suite. This afternoon the photographer will be taking shots to go up on the website over the weekend. So much happening … and still my heart aches for Natalie.

“Auntalie?” Nathan said, sitting at the kitchen table while I set breakfast dishes in the dishwasher rack. For a moment I got a little freaked, wondering if my kid had some psychic abilities or something I don’t want to think about. But looking into his eyes, I realized he was simply asking if he could stay across the hall with Nat while I do my inspections. He could have come with me, but how boring would that be for an almost two-year-old?

“I don’t know, sweetie. Aunt Natalie might be busy.” I turned to loading the dishwasher with detergent when he came up behind me.

“Auntalie,” he said and handed me the phone.

Shocked, I put it to my ear.

“Hello? Hello?”

“Nat?” I said, glaring at my son. “Jesus, Nathan dialed your number!”

She chuckled. “Does he want to come over to play?”

“Oh honey, I don’t want you thinking you have to watch him every time he gets a yen for Auntalie.”

“Nonsense. It’s fine, send him across the hall. Has he had breakfast?”

“Yes he has, no matter what he tells you. Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Um … are you … okay?”

“Fine. I’ll bake some oatmeal cookies. Nate likes oatmeal cookies as I recall.”

Tears filled my eyes and I told her I’d collect my cookie monster by noon.

As I did my walk through of the first room, finding everything looking damn good, my cell rang. It was Egan, announcing that he and Jacob would be arriving in a few days. A few days gave me enough time to finish a little project I started in the suite I blocked off for Egan and his son. Jacob’s room was repainted with pale blue walls and a midnight blue on the ceiling. On that ceiling I was pasting wonderful decals of planets and stars, comets and a full moon. They all glow in the dark and I really hope he likes it.

Then my mind wondered to how my kid could figure out how to locate and dial Natalie’s phone number.

JESSIE

Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go…

I caught myself softly humming that old song as I pulled back the bedroom curtains and looked out at our backyard covered in a blanket of fluffy white snow. The storm had started late yesterday afternoon; I’d thrown on one of Lachlan’s sweatshirts and stood out on the back porch watching as the first lacy drifts wafted down, thrilled to witness my first ever snowfall. I recalled scenes from my favorite holiday movies and had a sudden craving for hot cocoa and warm sugar cookies. When Lachlan and Jeff came home a couple of hours later, they found four dozen of Pillsbury’s freshly baked finest waiting for them. Ever see a couple of grubby, hungry men dig into a plate of cookies only to wash them down with cold beer? Guess this housewife thing is starting to grow on me, because it made me feel really good … kind of like June Cleaver. 

The shock of little Catherine’s death is slowly beginning to subside. It was sheer hell for all of us the first few days, but somehow, we’re all managing to trudge along and find a small bit of peace in our own way. Lachlan and Jeff have thrown themselves into the details of their new business, using our still unfinished third floor as their office of sorts. Matt and Kevin are fully on board, and the word is that the soon to arrive Egan may be joining the venture as well. I concentrate on avoiding strangers who seem overly friendly or interested in my pregnancy, and keep busy with things around the house. I think Kim’s having the harder time of coming to terms with it all. He’s usually so arrogant, but now he just seems sad most of the time. His ugly breakup with Emily just adds to his sadness and I can tell it bothers him far more than he admits.
 
I glanced over at Lachlan; splayed out on his back spread eagle, his tee shirt riding up over his belly and a rather delightful full-fledged morning glory tenting his sleep pants. I came back to bed and snuggled in next to him.

“Bloody hell, your feet are freezing!”

Funny how my icy toes didn’t stop him from moving in closer or rubbing up against me. “Then warm me up. Lots of snow fell last night and I’m cold.”

He smoothed his hand over my stomach and brought it to rest on my breast. “Oh yeah, you’re cold all right.” He rolled my nipple between his fingers and nibbled my neck. “How much snow?”

“Mmm…well, I couldn’t see the lawn furniture.” I slipped my hand down into his waistband and gave him a happy tug. “The picnic table is covered in about six inches or more.”

He let go of me suddenly, rolled over onto his back and gave a groan.

“What’s wrong?” I was enjoying our early morning cuddle.

“I’m gonna have to shovel the bloody driveway and dig the cars out.”

I reached over for him, but the morning glory was gone. “Is that such a bad thing?”

He shot up from the bed and grabbed for his jeans. “Can’t go anywhere if the driveway’s snowed in.”

“But doesn’t someone come through with a snow plow?”

He gave me a funny look, as if I’d said something stupid. But then his expression softened and he smiled. Well, it was actually more of a grimace, but I could tell he was choosing his next words very carefully.

“Sweetheart, where do you think the snow goes when the plow comes through?”

I thought a moment. “To the side of the road?”

“And what’s on the side of the road?”

I thought for another moment. “Our driveway?”

He threw on a sweater and reached for his boots. “There ya go. And unless one of the neighborhood kids comes along by six-thirty with an offer to shovel the mess, we’re on our own.”

“What about Jeff and Kim? Why can’t they help?”

“Oh trust me, love … I’m gonna rouse them outta their beauty sleep.”

Well damn. So much for a little early morning romance.

He noticed my pout and leaned down to kiss me. “Hold that thought. It’s been a while since we’ve done it in the shower.” He waggled his eyebrows and patted my stomach. “Shoveling snow is sweaty work. If you scrub my back, I’ll scrub yours.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. I watched him leave and listened to his footsteps clomping down the stairs. Cheeky brat. He knows that both the shower and I will be ready and waiting for him when he’s finished.

LACHLAN

It’s official; Home Again is our registered company name, and Kevin, Jeff, Matt, and I are equal partners in the green home construction business. We’ve obtained the required licenses and permits, and best of all, Kevin managed to interest Max Skinner in backing our first project; the purchase and restoration of the old Zuckerman farmhouse. Skinner’s had his heart set on one of Kevin’s custom built masterpieces, but got interested in our project when several of us met up in the pub after little Catherine’s funeral. It’s not as heartless as it sounds; it was an emotionally exhausting day and some of us just needed something to take off the edge. Talking business was a safe neutral topic, and when Skinner took an interest in our conversation, Kevin hit him with the soft sell.

“Think about it, Max. We’re talkin’ distressed historical properties purchased for a fraction of their value, with added tax incentives if they’re refurbished and livable within one year.”

Skinner seemed to quickly suss his intent, but sipped his drink and allowed Kevin to continue. “What the guys and I are trying to do is find one backer to help us get established. The angle is that every part of the reconstruction is completed with an entirely green mindset. We’re talking electricity and water at a fraction of the cost through seasonal solar energy and the treatment and use of local products while maintaining the historical integrity of the original structure. Totally earth friendly, completely green, but better.”

Skinner regarded both of us, his expression not giving anything away. “Gentlemen, while I admit the enterprise sounds admirable and fascinating, I’m going to cut to the bottom line. What’s in it for me?”

“Plain speaking, Max, let’s face facts. We’re not going to be able to break ground on your project until mid-summer. In the meantime, you could use this as a tax write off. Once the project is completed, you could live in the farmhouse while construction gets going on your dream home, and afterwards, you can rent the farmhouse out, or sell it. Your property is zoned for multi-residential occupancy and it’ll ultimately increase your resale value. We use the finished home as a promotional tool to secure future business. It’s a win-win situation.”

Skinner finished the last of his drink, holding onto his glass and staring absently at the leftover ice. 

“Your proposal’s intriguing and I daresay I rather like the idea of being a benefactor of sorts. Tell me a bit more about this particular distressed property.”

I saw my opportunity. “Built in 1785 by Ephraim Zuckerman; two stories, three bedrooms, one bathroom, three fireplaces and badly in need of some TLC. We’d arrange the moving of the structure to your land and construction would begin immediately. When we’re finished, you’ll think the house was original to your property since the beginning.”

“One bathroom?”

Kevin cut in. “Easily remedied. That’s the beauty of this project, Max. The interior is designed to your specifications, while the exterior maintains its historical accuracy and significance.”

“Boyer, I’m not all hard angles and tempered glass.” He glanced over at me and I had the feeling he really wasn’t interested. “But your proposal’s caught my imagination and I’d be pleased to help give your endeavor the push it needs.”

I must have been grinning like a madman, because Skinner clumped me on the shoulder and winked. “But I’m going to hold you to a strict timetable, gentlemen. The project must be finished before the construction begins on the new home in July.”

It was going to be close, but Kevin nodded. “Fair enough. You won’t be disappointed.”

Later, when we all gathered back in the Biebe’s apartment, I told Jessie about Max’s agreeing to finance the project. She went over and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the check.

“To what do I owe this honor?” He absently reached out to touch Jessie’s belly and seemed embarrassed when he realized what he had just done.

Jessie smiled sweetly. “Just for being a really nice guy.”

His expression took on a look of mock alarm. “My dear, not so loud. Others might hear.”

I caught Jessie’s eye and she silently mouthed the words I love you. While saddened and humbled by the family’s loss, I felt thankful for all the gifts we were still able to give one another.

JOHN

I saw Riles leave for the new addition, probably doing her Gestapo inspection routine but God sakes, would we have a five star Inn if she wasn’t like that? Probably not. My regular rounds were sidetracked with helping the gardener shovel and salt all the walks and pathways. We already had two reservations for horse drawn sleigh rides tonight and since we hadn’t hired anyone to do those things just yet, it was gonna be me freezing my nuts off after dark. Ah well, it’s all part of the deal.

“John?”

I turned a gripped Stephen’s arm just before he slipped into a mound of snow. Tossing more salt where he’d almost fell, I laughed. “Welcome to Vermont, winter style.”

He grinned then his narrow face returned to its concerned pinch. “John, I have a monumental request.”

“Sure, buddy, but let’s get you up on the porch before you do a nosedive.” He’d slipped again, this time on the gravelly salt. Stephen Maturin is definitely accident prone. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s for Jack. John, he needs something to occupy his hands and his mind. I’m deeply concerned for him. Have you any duties that might serve?”

I had to think a few moments. I rubbed my chin. Then it came to me and I ginned up at Stephen. “Inventory.”

His brow rose.

“Man, I got inventory coming out of my ass with this new addition. Stuff is everywhere. Linens, amenities, guest soaps, boxes of Kleenex. It all keeps arriving. Kim and Emily can’t keep up with counting and organizing it. After the new rooms open, it’ll be a lot easier … but now? It’s a fucking mess. Jack used to do that stuff on the ship, didn’t he?”

“Why yes, yes he did!” Stephen beamed. “You are a friend and a genius,” he shouted, tripping on the welcome mat as he readied to enter the lobby. He straightened himself, brushed off his jacket and smiled. “A true friend and a genius.

“Yeah, well tell my wife, will ya.”

BEN

I’m not real happy about this early snow. They told me winter tourists would come like a wildfire, but I sure wasn’t ready yet. Even at the Inn, it was like pushing my way across a fast river just to get through the lobby. Me and Tracy need to get us our own place, ‘specially since we’re now married … but no one knows that yet.

We went through with it. Even with all the sadness, I kinda felt like getting our lives started was important. I got some fears of getting her … in a family way … without having a marriage certificate. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I ain’t used to the way people are in this time. Women police, women running businesses … ain’t gonna complain about women voting though, since I hear most of the votes for me were from women. Just can’t figure out why.

No one noticed the wedding rings we’re wearin’. Too much is focused on the poor Aubreys. It’s how it should be. We’ll tell them all we got married later. For now, I need to find me a house. I heard Lachlan and Kevin and that girly boy, Mitchell, are starting a house building business. I’ll call Lachlan this afternoon, see how soon I can get us out of this Inn. Tracy needs a nest of her own.

AGENT COOPER

“I understand congratulations are in order,” I said as Sheriff Wade walked into the conference room. I’d been studying current activity in the town and come across his nuptials. He did not look pleased at my comment. “Are you unhappy with your decision?”

“Hell no. I just ain’t so pleased you know. Keep it quiet. There’s too much going on around here to make a big do about it.”

“I understand, I really do. What do you know of a man named Roger Fisher?”

Wade sat, sipped coffee and shrugged. “Ran against me for sheriff, why?”

“Something De La Croix came up with has made me very curious. Did you know Roger Fisher is now registered to run for mayor?”

“Against, Biebe?” the sheriff snorted. “The man must like losin’. What’s that gotta do with the murder investigation?”

“Several rather startling things are surfacing about Mr. Fisher.” I ran the curser down my information, opening several files and popping back and forth between various documents. Wade just blinked.

“How’d you do that?”

I grinned. “Not everyone is meant to be computer savvy, Sheriff. As I was saying, Roger Fisher was born and raised here in Stowe, Vermont. After a run in with the law, his family sent him off to college in New York where he seemingly straightened up his act.”

“So now he wants a political office in the town. So?”

“His wanting to be mayor is only extraordinarily curious based on this little ditty.” I slid a solid file across the table and Ben flipped through it. “Back when Mr. Fisher was eighteen years old, he was arrested for using drugs, but there, see that?” I pointed to a particular paragraph on the court documents. “It appears he made a plea bargain; no prison time if he told the police the name of his dealer. Now,” I shifted my attention to the computer screen and again pointed. Wade squinted. “Here is a Stowe police record stating that they had arrested Robert Sawicki under an accusation given during that plea bargain.”

“But Sawicki was working for the FBI, right?” Ben’s brow was knotted, tight as a sailor’s rope.

“Yes he was, and obviously he was so deeply under cover the Stowe police weren’t aware. They were duly informed and the man was immediately released. Cross referencing my research to Mr. Sawicki’s report on the incident, look at this.”

I watched Wade’s face. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly,” I grinned. “Sawicki was working Fisher because Fisher was dealing directly with a major supplier out of Miami.”

“So … you thinking Fisher did it?”

“I’m wondering. Some of the pieces don’t fit. If Roger Fisher murdered Agent Sawicki, or had something to do with the murder of Agent Sawicki … why wouldn’t he lay low? What would be his M.O. for making himself highly visible after the discovery of the body? Why throw his hat into the mayoral race at a time when all this information can be dug up. It isn’t adding up.”

“It’s a smokescreen, Cooper. I seen men like this, men who use a big show to cover bigger cheatin’ at the card table. He’s bluffin’.”

“Possibly. Maybe. We need a little more evidence … and it just might come right from
the horse’s mouth.”

EMILY

I’m slowly settling in to the mindset of being single once again. Believe it or not, it’s getting easier; having to work with Kim hasn’t been the monumental nightmare I’d feared. It’s tense and a bit uncomfortable, but so far neither one of us has drawn any blood.

He’s been staying away from the office as much as possible, setting up appointments and meetings away from the Inn. It actually suits me just fine. I don’t have to smell his cologne or listen to him bray on to some of the vendors about the nightlife here in Stowe.  I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish when he does that; create a bit of male bonding with established clients, perhaps, but I can’t help but think that he’s doing it just to bother me.

Personally, things are starting to look up a little. Remember the cute construction guy, Adam Caruthers? He called me again for the first time three nights ago, and we’ve had lunch together twice already. Then last night he took me out to dinner. A nice restaurant with great food and we sat and talked until almost ten-thirty. I know he’s interested in seeing me romantically and while I definitely find him very charming and attractive, I had to be honest and tell him that right now I’m not ready for being more than friends. Amazingly, he seemed okay with this.

“I like being with you, Emmie. You’re fun to talk to and you’re a genuinely nice person. I’m tired of she-devils.”

I laughed. “She- devils? That sounds like a word my lola would use.”

“Your lola?”

“That’s Filipino … it means grandmother.”

“We called my grandmother Nana.” 

“That rhymes with banana.”

“I like bananas, too.”

“I’ll remember that. I don’t know what good it will do me, but I will definitely remember that.”

“If you won’t run away and marry me, will you at least let me buy you breakfast tomorrow?”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, we can go get breakfast and then I’ll drive you into work and chauffeur you home afterwards. I mean, we work at the same place; if it’ll make you feel any better, just think of it as carpooling. Besides, my truck handles the road better during the snowfall than your Jeep does.”

Actually, my Jeep ran like a champ, and while I found his argument amusing, let’s face it; I was flattered. Every girl with a broken heart should find herself in the company of a really cute guy with a heart of gold. He was sweet to worry about my safety.

“Okay, I’ll go to breakfast with you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to marry me?”

“Not until our seventh date.”

“Oh, so there is hope after all.”

We left the restaurant and after driving me home he walked me to my apartment door. “Good night, Adam. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaned down to kiss me, and I think I would have let him. Only he surprised me and kissed my forehead instead. “Good night, Emily Carreras.”

I watched from the doorway as he walked back to his car and drove away. I was feeling pretty good until I got into bed. The minute I turned the lights out, I ended up crying myself to sleep.

KIM

I was anxious to show Riley the monthly financial report. Employee absences are down fifteen percent and with the holidays approaching, sales are up and reservations are booked solid through New Year’s. There’s no less than a dozen Christmas parties reserved for local businesses this December and Chef Chris is going to be featured in the January issue of Gourmet magazine.

She seemed pleased as she read it over, then just when I’m thinking that all is starting to return to some form of normal; she informs me that Jack will be heading the end of year inventory. While I understand the reasoning behind it all, I can’t help but worry. Bloody hell, all I need is to lock horns with the Captain Jack Aubrey. 

If that revelation wasn’t crazy enough, I saw Emily arriving to work with that bloke Adam Carruthers, Kevin Boyer’s lead man for the construction project here at the Inn. If that doesn’t beat all; Emily always claimed to be so annoyed when he kept calling her a few months back; now there she is, showing up to work with him the morning after, smiling and laughing, looking as if she was having the time of her life. Maybe she’s not as out of sorts over our breakup as she’d first claimed. Maybe I should be glad that she’s moving on with her life, but it left me feeling as if I could use a good stiff drink.

NATALIE

There is nothing more joyful than the sound of a baby’s laughter, and this morning our apartment rang with the bubbling noise. Nathan had come to play while Riley took care of business, and Chelsea was overjoyed to have some time with her cousin. It was such a happy moment that I almost forgot that someone was missing. It wasn’t until Nathan reminded me during our mid-morning snack of warm oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

“Auntalie? Mommy said Catherine went to the angels.” He gazed at me with those big blue eyes and chocolate smeared around his mouth as I poured milk into his sippy cup.

“Yes, sweetie, she did.” I kept my voice calm and even, not wanting to upset him.

“Oh.” He looked at the cookies we’d just made, then picked one up and handed it to me. “That’s for her when she comes back.”

“Nathan,” I squatted next to his chair, “Catherine’s not coming back. She lives with the angels now.”

“Oh.” His brows furrowed, puzzling this out. “Will the angels give her oatmeal cookies?”

I swallowed my tears and took the cookie, giving Nathan a big hug. “I’m sure they will, sweetie.”

Riley came shortly after that to pick him up and I told her about Nathan’s comment. I could see the concern in her eyes. “It’s all good, Riles, really. I explained it to him and it’s all good.”

She put her hand on my arm. “It’s not good, Nat, and I’m worried.”

I put on my best smile and handed her a plate of cookies. “Don’t be. I’m fine. It’ll all be fine. You’ll see.”

I sent her off across the hall with Nathan in tow. The apartment seemed small, stuffy and way too quiet after they left. I just had to get out and get some fresh air, so I bundled Chelsea up against the chill and headed downstairs for a short walk.

MAXIMUS

I had just returned from Pullo’s vineyard, pleased with all their progress and proud to have been able to assist. As I stood aside, letting several guests pass, their faces red from skiing and looking forward to the Inn’s warmth and hospitality, I spied Natalie coming down the stairs. She stopped, looked into my eyes and I felt my heart tremble. Without a word, I took the child into one arm and gripped Natalie’s hand. She silently followed me across the porch and into the left tower. At the top floor I closed the door and carefully freed the baby of her heavy winter coat. Placing Chelsea on the floor, she quickly scooted toward the center of the room and sat, clapping her hands together and counting her little fingers.

Natalie had removed her coat and sat on the long cushioned bench along the wall. I stood and watched her. There was a vacancy in her eyes that was extremely worrisome.

“I’m fine, Maximus.”

“You are not.”

“I’m worried about Jack,” she sighed, pushing back her loose hair.

“I am worried for you.”

She groaned and leaned her head back against the wall. Snow fell slow and lazy outside the wall of French doors, casting shadows that slithered along the carpet and the baby chased them fruitlessly.

“My dear Natalie.” I sat next to her. “I do know your agony.”

Her eyes turned to me and she nodded.

“Such loss can prey on ones soul; it can eat away all your resolve.”

“I’m not going to try to kill myself, Maximus.”

“I do not suspect such, you are not that selfish.”

“Right. I have Chelsea to take care of. Chelsea and Jack.”

“And … yourself. But tell me, dear woman. How can you hold that child when you are nothing but air? When your heart is a void. It cannot be refilled, remolded until you truly mourn.”

“I can’t … it will consume me. I just know it.”

“Yes, it will. But when it is done, you will again be alive. It was not you who died in that fire, Natalie.”

She fought tears and I squeezed her hand tenderly.

“You must let us take care of you. Allow others to care for Chelsea when you need to cry … and you do, most certainly need to cry. It will not end quickly, but I promise you … it will end.”

Tears rolled down her lovely face and I held her close. “Will it really end?”

“Yes, it will. Will you promise to permit yourself time to heal?”

She nodded against my shoulder and I sighed. “I will hold you to your word, for I must return to my family and my vineyard. I will see you for Thanksgiving in a few weeks and we will talk here again.”

“Yes, Maximus. Yes.”

DAISY

Four-thirty and I was setting up the bar for the evening’s customers. Someone walked in and I looked up. “Ah, shit,” I groaned as Agent Cooper sat at the bar. “What?” I spat.

“I have a lead, Miss Daisy and I would like you to speak to your … contact … and possibly confirm it for me.”

“You want me to talk to my imaginary friend, Bob?”

Cooper grinned then told me everything he’d uncovered. Little did he know, Bob was sitting right beside him the whole time. So was Brian and at least three other translucent customers. This place was getting crowded, and not with paying customers. “Will you ask him if I’m barking up the correct tree?” Cooper said.

Bob chuckled. “Tell Agent Cooper he’s putting the cart before the damn horse, Daisy Chain.”

“No,” I grunted.

“No?” said Cooper. “You won’t ask him?”

“No, I was talking to Bob.”

Bob laughed more then turned to Brian and they made fun of Agent Cooper’s tie.

“That’s just mean,” I sighed. “Okay,” I turned to Cooper. “Bob said you’re putting the horse before the cart.”

“What does that mean?”

“No clue and I can’t ask. He’s left.”

Cooper scratched his head, asked for a beer then went to sit at a back booth, jotting quietly in his notebook.

Damn, I wish Cory was here. He’s off filming the first snowfall in Vermont and won’t be back until Thursday. Sometimes I think I’ll lose my mind without him to bounce all this crazy shit off of. Maybe I’d take his advice and call Gemma.

STEPHEN

By late afternoon, Jack had sorted the boxes in the storeroom and together we had begun to empty the contents, stacking various items on the metal shelving. As we worked, Jack recorded the description of each item, the quantity and its location in the storeroom. We worked quietly for several hours; our conversation limited to the occasional “Pass me that box.” It was tedious work.

“I know what John is about, you know.” Jack’s voice broke the silence. He was standing, his back me. “He wants to keep me busy.”

I sighed, looking back to the sheets I was stacking neatly. “I’m sure this is needful work, Jack.”

He turned and sat on a large crate. “Needful, yes. But brother John wishes to keep me occupied, and I thank him for it.” He leaned his head back, eyes closed. “It keeps my mind from wandering.”

“Ah, yes, work is a good antidote for ruminating. But, in this case, perhaps some ruminating would be productive.”

He huffed, stood abruptly and began to pace. “Ruminating!” he cried. “I’ve done nothing but ruminate since that terrible day. How could I not?” He leaned against a shelf, his head bowed. “I am responsible, Stephen. I should have got her, brought her out safely. She was my daughter!”

“It was not you who killed her, Jack. It was the woman.”

“But it was I who brought that she-devil into our lives. I who failed to notice the danger. I who …” His voice choked and he sat with a thump on the crate. “It was I who left my daughter to burn.”

“Jack.” I stood and went to him. “Jack, it was not you. You are not responsible. How could you have known when you began tutoring her that that girl would prove so dangerous? By your own admission, you contacted the police and Terry when the danger became apparent. You did everything you could to protect your family.” I stood before him. “You must understand this or you will go mad. Jack, you did not set that fire!”

It was quiet for several moments as my words sunk in. Slowly, his shoulders slumped and he released a deep breath. “Of course you are right. It was not my fault.”

“And, Jack, as it was not your fault, it is your responsibility to pull it together, my dear. Your family needs you.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” He groaned to his feet and resumed his calculations and listings.