because I want to get it through that thick, cheapskate skull of yours that we need a full-time person to sit here and bang away on this thing.”
“What are you doing?” Lucy asked. She didn’t peer over his shoulder because that drove him nuts. He was a lanky, easygoing Vermonter whose paddling skills and knowledge of the hills, valleys, rivers and coastline of northern New England were indispensable. So were his enthusiasm, his honesty and his friendship.
“I’m putting together the final, carved-in-stone, must-not-deviate-from itinerary for the father-son backpacking trip.” This was a first-time offering, a five-day beginner’s backpacking trip on nearby trails in the southern Green Mountains; it had filled up even faster than he and Lucy had anticipated. Rob looked up, and she knew what he was thinking. “There’s still time for J.T. to join us. I told him I wasn’t a substitute for his real dad, but we can still have a lot of fun.”
“I know. This is one he has to figure out for himself. I can’t decide for him.”
He nodded. “Well, we’ve got time. By the way, he and Georgie are digging worms in the garden.”
Lucy wasn’t surprised. “Madison will love that. I just sent her to check on them.”
Rob tilted back in his chair and stretched. Sitting at a computer was torture for him on a day when he could be out kayaking. “How’d she do driving?”
“Better than I did. She’s still lobbying for a semester in Washington.”
“Grandpa Jack would love that.”
“She’s romanticized Washington. It’s everything Vermont isn’t.”
Rob shrugged. “Well, it is.”
“You’re a big help!” But Lucy’s laughter faded quickly as she slipped her hand into her pocket and withdrew the bullet. “I want you to take a look at something.”
“Sure.”
“And I don’t want you to mention it to anyone.”
“Am I supposed to ask why not?”
“You’re supposed to say okay, you won’t.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
She opened her hand and let the bullet roll forward in her palm. “What do you think?”
Rob frowned. “It’s a bullet.”
“I know it’s a bullet. What kind?”
He picked it out of her palm and nonchalantly set it upright on his cluttered desk. He’d grown up around guns. “Forty-four magnum. It’s the whole nine yards, you know, not just an empty shell.”
She nodded. “I know that much. Can it go off?”
“Not sitting here on my desk. If you dropped it just right or ran it over with a lawn mower or something, it could go off.”
Lucy stifled a shudder. “That can’t be good.”
“If it went off, you wouldn’t have any control over where it goes. At least with a gun, you can take aim at a target. You might take lousy aim. But if you run over a live round with a lawn mower, there’s no chance to aim at anything. Thing can go any which way.” He sounded calm, but his dark eyes were very serious. “Where’d you find it?”
“What? Oh.” She hadn’t considered a cover story and hated the idea of lying. “In town. I’m sure it’s no big deal.”
“It’s not Georgie or J.T., is it? If they’re fooling around with firearms and ammunition—”
“No!” Lucy nearly choked. “I stumbled on it in town just now. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so I picked it up. I was just wondering if I was panicking unnecessarily.”
“You weren’t. Someone was very careless.” He touched the dull gray metal tip of the bullet. “You want me to get rid of it?”
“Please.”
“Do me a favor, okay? Check J.T.’s room. I’ll check Georgie’s. If I find anything, I’ll let you know. You do the same. I don’t keep a gun at home, and I know you don’t, but they wouldn’t be the first twelve-year-old boys—”
“It wasn’t J.T. or Georgie.”
Rob’s eyes met hers. “If you won’t check J.T.’s room, I will.”
Lucy nodded. “You’re right. I’ll check his room.”
“The cellar, too. I nearly blew myself up at that age screwing around with gunpowder.”
“I don’t have gunpowder—”
“Lucy.”
“All right, all right.”
Rob was silent, studying her. She’d known him from her earliest days in Vermont. He and his wife, Patti, were her best friends here. Georgie and J.T. were inseparable. But she hadn’t told him about the weird incidents.
Lucy tried not to squirm. Sweat had matted her shirt to her lower back. So much to do, so many responsibilities. She didn’t need some crackpot targeting her. “Just get rid of the damn bullet, okay?”
Rob crossed his arms on his chest. “Sure, Lucy.”
She could guess what he was thinking—what anyone would be thinking. That she was on edge, frayed and crazed, more than would be warranted by a rapidly expanding business, widowhood, single motherhood and an impending trip west. That he wanted to call her on it.
Lucy took advantage of his natural reluctance to meddle. “I’m sorry if I seem a little nuts. I have so much to do with this whirlwind trip to Wyoming this weekend. You can hold down the fort here?”
“That’s in bold print on my resume. Can hold down forts.”
His humor didn’t reach his eyes, but Lucy pretended not to notice. She smiled. “What would I do without you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Go broke.”
She laughed, feeling better now that the bullet was out of her pocket. These incidents had to be unrelated. It was kooky and paranoid to think they were part of some kind of bizarre conspiracy against her. What would be the motive?
She left Rob to his computer aggravations and bullet disposal, and went outside. She’d ask Rob later what he thought about this Widow Swift business. She had a good life here, and that was what counted.
“I made lemonade,” Madison called from the front porch.
“Great. I’ll be right there.”
Lucy reminded herself it was only in recent months her daughter had come to feel aggrieved by their move to Vermont.
“I’m pretending I’m living in an episode of ‘The Waltons,’” Madison said when her mother joined her
