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enjoying it.
    â€œYou’ve hardly eaten a thing. I know I’m not the greatest cook. . .”
    â€œNo, the food’s wonderful. You must have really worked hard. I’m sorry I haven’t done it more justice. It’s just that I haven’t been feeling all that well lately. I guess I caught some sort of bug, but it’s been hanging on for a while and I can’t seem to shake it.”
    â€œLike the flu?”
    â€œSomething like that. It comes and goes, headaches, nausea, cramps.”
    I’d heard all those symptoms before. Lately everyone on Fairfield County seemed to be coming down with them. “You should have a Lyme test. Even if you haven’t seen a tick or a rash. You’d be amazed how many of the people I work with have come down with Lyme Disease this year. Especially working with dogs like you do, there’s probably a pretty good chance you’ve been exposed.”
    â€œI know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m going to get it checked out. Just as soon as I have some spare time.”
    â€œSpare time? What’s that?”
    We laughed together, and I was pleased to see her finish the rest of her cake. Later, she even let me wrap up an extra large piece to take home. I knew that Rick was waiting for her, so we made it an early evening. Davey fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV around eight-thirty and she and I took him up and tucked him in. Jenny left a few minutes later.
    The book she’d brought was still sitting on the table in the front hall. “Thanks again,” I said, picking it up.
    â€œNo problem.” Jenny lingered on the step. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
    â€œSure, you too. I’ll see you at class on Thursday, right?”
    â€œNot this week, I’ll be away. But don’t worry, Angie will be filling in for me and I’m sure she’ll do fine. Thanks for dinner. It was great.”
    â€œAnytime,” I said, and meant it. Next time I’d know better than to ask her for a Friday night though; and to make sure there weren’t any ruffled feathers, I’d invite Rick along, and maybe even Angie, too.
    Davey and I spent most of the next week going to school and raking leaves. The yard isn’t that big and the job wouldn’t have taken so long except that every time I got a decent-sized pile together, Davey and Faith dove in. They were so cute together that I had to go into the house and get the camera. Now I’d have to be sure that Aunt Peg never saw the pictures of her show puppy with leaves intertwined through that all important coat of hair.
    Wednesday afternoon, we finally bagged the last of what was on the ground. While Davey was taking a bath, I brushed through Faith’s coat with a pin brush, then took down her top-knot which is the hair on the top of her head. If a Poodle is going to be shown, that hair is never cut. Eventually it will grow nearly a foot long. To keep it out of the dog’s face, the hair is gathered into a series of small ponytails which are held in place with tiny colored rubber bands. I cut loose the old bands, brushed through the hair, then reset it with new ones. I was just finishing when the phone rang.
    It was Aunt Peg. “This is so awful,” she said.
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œI was just talking to Rick Maguire.”
    As I waited for her to continue, I slipped Faith a piece of cheese as a reward for being good, then hopped her down off the portable grooming table I’d set up in the kitchen.
    â€œWhat?” I asked again when a moment passed and she still hadn’t said a word.
    â€œI just can’t believe it.” Peg’s voice was oddly flat. “Rick was so upset I could barely understand what he was saying. Melanie, Jenny Maguire is dead.”

Four
    She couldn’t be dead, I thought. I just saw her. She was much too young, much too vibrant, to be dead.
    â€œMelanie, are you