LITMIR.BIZ

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like a feast when Melissa thought about Diane, Josh and Callie in the cold, dark cottage. The farmer obviously didn’t know about them, which meant they probably didn’t have electricity or heat. Even if they did, Diane wouldn’t risk cooking for fear of being detected. God knows what they’d eat—probably tinned beans. Cold beans, at that.

      She had to go back, Melissa decided. She couldn’t just abandon them without knowing if they were all right. She barely listened to the others chatting about the olive harvest, the new glass artist, whose work Cheryl was displaying in her gallery, and the town’s worryingly low water supply.

      As soon as they were finished eating, Melissa jumped up. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got to get going.”

      “You didn’t mention you were going out tonight,” Cheryl said. “Where to?”

      This was exactly why she couldn’t stand living at home. Her mother was asking politely, out of curiosity, and Melissa owed her a courteous reply, but wasn’t used to accounting for her every action. “I’m going to visit some friends.”

      Cheryl followed her. “Have you got your key?”

      “Yes, Mother.” Spying the platter of leftover lamb, Melissa paused. “Can I take some of this meat?”

      Cheryl’s eyebrows rose under her platinum-blond coif. “I suppose so. Is it for your friends? Can’t they cook for themselves?”

      “They don’t have the use of a kitchen at the moment,” Melissa said. Technically speaking, it was probably true. “They’re living on cold tinned food.”

      “Renovating,” Ally deduced with a shudder. “I know what that’s like. Don’t they have a microwave?”

      “The electricity’s out.” Melissa rummaged in a drawer for a large freezer bag.

      “Let me, darling,” Cheryl said, as if, goodness knows, Melissa couldn’t manage on her own, and began placing slices of meat inside the bag, one at a time.

      Melissa watched impatiently for a moment, then took the bag out of her mother’s hands and, grasping the leg of lamb by the frilled bone, shoved the whole thing in. “May I take the potatoes, too?”

      “If you like,” Cheryl said, astonished.

      “Gravy?” Tony offered, holding up the gravy boat.

      “Too messy.” Melissa zipped up the bag and upended the pan of roast potatoes into another one. Then she lifted a hand in farewell to her wide-eyed, speechless family. “See you all later. Thanks for doing my résumé, Ally. Say hi to Ben and Danny.”

      “Will do,” Ally murmured.

      “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to take?” Tony asked.

      “Now that you mention it…” Melissa turned to her mother. “Do you have any blankets I could borrow?”

      “For your friends?” Cheryl asked, one eyebrow raised.

      “Since the electricity’s out they have no heating.” There might be blankets stored in the cottage, but she wasn’t banking on it.

      While Cheryl went down the hall to the linen closet, Melissa slipped behind the kitchen counter and pocketed the salt and pepper.

      “Why aren’t these people more organized?” Ally asked. “They should have thought of cooking and heating before they started renovating.”

      “You know how some of Melissa’s friends are,” Cheryl said, coming back into the room with an armful of folded blankets.

      “I should resent that,” Melissa said mildly. Just because she was hopelessly impractical didn’t mean her friends were.

      “How many are there?” Cheryl asked, piling the blankets into her arms. “Who are they?”

      “Golly, you people ask a lot of questions!” She staggered to the front door, loaded down with blankets and bags of food.

      “Would they like some olive oil?” Tony called after her, holding out a bottle of his premium extra virgin.

      “Not this time, but thanks,” Melissa said. “’Bye!”

      She threw everything into the backseat of the Volkswagen and drove back to the turnoff to Balderdash Road, parking a hundred meters from the farm. She just hoped the dog was inside the house; otherwise, she might have to sacrifice the lamb, and that would be a shame.

      Melissa got out of the car with her bundle of blankets and bags of food and walked up the long track to the cottage. The tiny beam of her pocket flashlight wobbled along the shadowed ruts.

      The yard was dark except for a pool of light spreading from the bare bulb above the door of the barn. The curtained windows of the house glowed yellow. She tried not to think about Gregory, but his image rushed into her mind—silky black hair, dark eyes watching her….

      She reached the cottage and tapped lightly on the door with the end of the flashlight. No response. She turned the handle and pushed hard. The door creaked open.

      “Diane?” she called softly into the blackness, “it’s me.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      YAWNING, ALICE ANN snuggled deeper beneath her raspberry-pink comforter and hugged her stuffed Piglet closer. Her hair was still damp from her bath and dark brown tendrils curled around her cheeks.

      Gregory, sitting on the edge of the bed, reached over to turn out her bedside lamp. “Good night, sweetheart.”

      “Daddy?” she said sleepily. “Why can’t Melissa be my nanny? She smelled pretty. Like flowers.”

      “Did she?” Gregory asked, pretending he didn’t remember, even though he recalled quite clearly the scent of violets and wild roses.

      “So can she, Daddy?”

      “She’s not a nanny, sweetheart. Even if she wanted the job, the question of who looks after you is an important decision. We need to consider qualifications and experience, not just how nice a person is or how she smells. I only want what’s best for you. Do you understand?”

      “I guess so.” She sighed and hugged Piglet closer.

      “I’m going to call Mrs. Blundstone tomorrow.”

      “Not Mrs. Blundstone!” Alice Ann sat up, her arms braced against the bed. “She’s a witch. She’ll turn me into a cane toad! Then she’ll make me blow up like a balloon and ’splode into yucky stuff and fly all over the place and go splat and—”

      “Alice Ann. Where do you get these crazy ideas?” Gregory said sternly. “Mrs. Blundstone has many years’ experience both as a teacher and as a nanny.”

      “I hate her!” His daughter flung herself back onto her pillow. “She never smiled at me, not once. And she didn’t say hi to Benny.”

      Gregory smoothed her tangled hair back from her forehead. “I need to talk to you about Benny.”

      Her scowl faded into a smile that put a dimple in her right cheek. “He’s nearly as big as the other weaners now, isn’t he, Daddy?”

      “Yes, he is. Benny’s a fine pig. A valuable pig.” Gregory paused. This was as difficult for him to say as it would be for his daughter to accept. “You see, sweetheart, the time has come for the weaners to leave our farm.”

      A tiny frown creased Alice Ann’s forehead. “Why? This is their home.”

      “Not…forever.” Gregory cleared his throat.

      She straightened up. “But you don’t mean Benny.”

      “Benny, too, I’m afraid.”

      Alice Ann clutched her Piglet, anxious and angry. “He’ll miss me so much. Why does he have to go away?”

      Gregory scratched

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