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 the back of his head, feeling perspiration form on his scalp. “He’s getting big. It’s time for him to leave, to go to…a better place.”
“How can it be better when he won’t have me to play with?” Alice Ann argued. “Where is he going?”
“It’s a special place just for pigs,” he fibbed, hating himself. “Benny will love it. You want Benny to be happy, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She thought for a minute. “Is it like the resort Grandma Finch went to on the Gold Coast?”
“Well…” Gregory began, then stalled.
“A pig resort!” Eyes shining, Alice Ann paid no attention to her dad’s protest as she danced Piglet across her pink coverlet. “Benny’s going to a five-star pig resort.”
“Wait a minute—”
“I bet it’s beautiful,” she declared, rapidly embellishing. “A fancy chef will make his favorite slop. There will be green fields where he can lie in the sun—” with an elaborate sigh she sank blissfully into her pillow “—all day long.”
“It sounds mighty fine,” Gregory said, smiling despite himself. “The weaners might like it so much they won’t want to come home.”
“Not Benny.” Alice Ann shook her head solemnly. “He’s my extra specialest piggy. He’ll come back as soon as he can. And if he doesn’t, we’ll go get him, won’t we, Daddy?”
“We’ll see.”
“We will.” She nodded decisively, settling the matter.
Gregory tucked the covers around her. “Time to sleep now.”
She yawned. “I liked her dangly earrings, too.”
Melissa again. Gregory recalled the way her earrings had cast feathery shadows over the soft skin and fragile bones at the base of her neck. Ridiculous bits of fluff and frivolity, totally out of place on a farm.
“She has a tiny
