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for breakfast as her father came inside from shoveling snow. He sat down at the table across from Rose, smiled his thanks to Irene as she served him a cup of coffee, then suddenly clenched his chest and he grimaced with pain. The massive coronary took him down fast. Michael John Gallagher was dead before his coffee cooled.
    They buried him a few days later with the winter morning sunshine glinting like diamonds against the new-fallen snow. Irene stood stalwart at the funeral, her hand clenched tight in Rose’s own as the casket was carried into church, incensed, prayed over, and finally laid to rest. Rose marveled at her mother’s strength as the town mourned the untimely death of one of their own. Irene never wavered, not even when the Judge broke down in her arms. Her mother’s faith held them steady and firm. It was a lesson Rose never forgot.
    She’d learned something else that day, too. Life offered up no guarantees. Her father had been a high school teacher and his last lesson, taught one cold December morning, was something Rose kept tucked deep inside her heart. If a good man such as Michael John Gallagher could be shoveling snow one minute, only to sit down and die, it was best to get on with the business of living. Dreams could be gone in a heartbeat.
    Once upon a time, she’d blithely assumed she would live out her life in James Bay, practicing law with the Judge’s son Jeff. His unexpected death had sliced her heart open straight down the middle. Jeff would no longer be there like they’d always planned. And she wouldn’t practice law in James Bay, like they’d always planned. This town had turned its back on Jeff. Fair was fair. She’d turned her back on this town. Leave them to their talk. She was a practicing attorney now with a comfortable three hours’ distance between herself and the wagging tongues of the gossipmongers of James Bay. Three hours away… maybe she should take Andy up on his offer. One thousand miles distance sounded even better.
    A loud, shrieking buzzer pierced the quiet of the hospital walls, yanking Rose back into the present. “What’s that?”
    The Judge’s gaze darted around the room as they came to a stand. “Best grab your purse, my dear. That sounds like a fire alarm.”
    “But I don’t see any smoke.” Rose sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything, either. Do you think it’s a real fire?”
    “There’s no need to panic.”
    She yanked free of his touch. “What about Mom? We can’t just leave her.”
    “I’m sure they have standard procedures for this sort of thing.”
    Even as he spoke, a harried looking nurse rushed through the room. “Out of the building,” she said in a no-nonsense tone. “It’s only a drill. Take the hall to the left.”
    All this commotion simply for a fire drill? No smoke didn’t necessarily mean no fire. Why else would that shrill buzzer still be sounding? Her mother was in the recovery room, groggy with anesthetic, hooked up to machines. What measures did the hospital have in place to ensure Irene’s safety?
    Rose stood in the doorway and waved the nurse down as the hallway emptied out.
    “Since it’s only a drill, I think I’ll stay where I am. My mother just came out of surgery and she’s—”
    “Everyone leaves,” the nurse snapped. “That means you.”
    “But my mother—”
    “Will be taken care of. You need to leave. Now.”
    Rose swallowed down a surge of annoyance at the insolence in the woman’s voice. What did this nurse know about fire or smoke—or her mother, for that matter? Absolutely nothing. Rose backed up and plopped down in the nearest chair. “You can leave if you like,” she said to the Judge, “but I’m not going anywhere until I know Mom is safe.”
    “You get out of that chair right now.” The nurse folded her arms and leveled them both with an icy glare.
    “My dear, I think it might be wise to do as she asks.” The Judge gripped Rose’s shoulder. “They’ll take good care of