Sam stood by the wall phone between the kitchen and the dining room. He was trying to reach Francis LaBlanc to confirm their appointment. He’d tried her office and home getting only an answering machine, and was now dialing Francis’s cell phone. As the phone rang, he watched the scene in Annie’s house unfold before him.

Annie was at the refrigerator taking out preparations for lunch. Twice before she’d tried unsuccessfully to draw Kathleen into conversation. Kathleen, for her part, was eying Annie from the porch door, trying to read her mind, Sam thought.

“Kathleen,” Annie called, “would you slice up some tomatoes?”

“Coming,” Kathleen said disinterestedly. As she passed her father, she avoided looking at him.

“Hope everybody likes bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches,” Annie said with forced cheerfulness.

“I think so,” Kathleen replied. She took the knife Annie offered and sliced tomatoes on the carving board.

Sam could see his son and grandson down by the river’s edge. Russ had taken to Annie right away and asked if he and Jimmy could play with the dogs down by the water.

Annie was standing over the stove filling the small house with the inviting smell of sizzling bacon. She sneaked a peek at Sam with a look that asked, “How’m I doing?” Sam smiled.

Francis’s voice came over the phone.

“Hi Francis. It’s Sam. We still on for two o’clock?”

“We are. I’ll meet you at the house.”

“See you then.”


Sam’s house, as he already thought of it, was in the village of West Hillton, a gathering of twenty or so old homes along the Westfield River. In the early nineteenth century these homes housed workers for a tannery, and later, for a paper mill. Now the residents were retirees, artists, writers, farmers, carpenters and a few commuters to Northampton and Pittsfield. The nearest store was a bakery/grocery store/deli/gas station in Hillton five miles away. High, forested hills surrounded the village like a bulwark against the frenetic pace of a new century.

Annie shut the dogs in the house and the puppies in the kennel, and joined the others outside the gate by the cars.

“Ride with us, Annie,” Jimmy begged.

She looked at Sam, shrugged, and then at Russ. “Nice truck,” she said. “Mind if I ride with you?”

“Hop in,” he said, beaming.

Kathleen got in with her dad and the group departed.

“You and Annie had quite a conversation after lunch,” Sam said when they reached the main road. The two women had sent the men to the dog yard to finished picking up poop while they did the dishes.

“Yeah,” Kathleen said pensively.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not much to tell. I asked her about the dogs and the puppies. She said she raised one or two litters a year and sold the pups. I asked her if there was much money in that. She said no, that she had to supplement her income by working as a physical therapist.”

“Anything else?”

“I asked how well she’d known Mom. She told me about the visits Mom had made here and how much fun they’d had together.” Kathleen turned to her father. “She said I had Mom’s features.” She paused for moment to savor that, then went on. “Mom was the girl friend she’d never had as a kid, she said. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t share.” Again she paused. “It made me envious. Then I asked her if she thought Mom was still alive.”

“What’d she say?”

“That there were some things that pointed to it.” They exchanged looks, then Kathleen continued. “So I asked, if she’s alive, why doesn’t she show herself, why all this creeping around in the shadows? She thinks Mom’s afraid to show herself, afraid we won’t accept her.”

“So do I,” Sam said, glancing at her. “What do you think?”

“About not showing herself? I don’t even think she’s alive. It’s pretty clear, though, that both of you do.”

They drove for a while in silence as Sam considered telling her about his trip to Saskatchewan. She’d been willing to share her conversation with Annie, so maybe she’d listen to the new information he had. “Did you know that I was away this past week?” he said.

“Russ told me. You were here with Annie, weren’t you?”

“No. I went to Saskatchewan.”

She whipped her head around. “Saskatchewan?”

“Pinnacle Kennels. The one that’s in the book I showed you, Newfies And Their Friends. I wanted to ask the owner if the author, Susan Lang, was really your mother. She looked at the pictures I took of Sarah and said they were the same person.”

“And what does that prove?”

“For one thing, that Sarah was out there when we were going to the police with a missing person report. For another, that she left there the end of June and went to Pemaquid Point in Maine for the rest of the summer.”

“When was the last time anyone heard from her?” Kathleen asked with growing interest.

“The first of September. She was living with Dave Cowan, the guy in the book, who trains Newfoundlands for rescue work.”

Kathleen tipped her head and looked at her father. “Living with?”

Sam let out a long breath. “I don’t know. It sounds like it. At least she was staying in the same house with him.”

“Oh man! I’m so sorry Dad.”

“Yeah. It hurts. Now you see why . .”

“No,” she said waving her hand in front of her face. “No more. I’ve got to let this sink in.”

They didn’t speak again until they were approaching the house. “There it is,” Sam said, “just across the bridge” The stately old house with chimneys at both ends was situated between the road and the river. The lot stretched along the river with a garden in full flower at one end and an apple orchard at the other. Two tall pines were in the front yard behind a split rail fence that extended the length of the property. The house was painted dark brown.

“It’s so big.” Kathleen exclaimed. “You’d get lost in there all by yourself.” She opened the door and came around to his side of the car. “But it is beautiful.”

Russ’s pickup was parked in the driveway and he was standing, hands on hips, in the front yard surveying the roof. Jimmy and Annie were walking across the yard by the flower garden toward the river. “Come on Kathleen,” Jimmy called, “down here. We’re gonna look at the river.” Kathleen ran to catch up with them.

Sam joined his son in front of the house. “Nice roof line, Dad. No sagging. And the roofing looks in good shape.”

Francis came out the front door of the house and greeted them. Sam introduced his son. “The owners have gone out,” Francis said, “so you can look to your heart’s content.”

“Can you show us the basement?” Russ asked.

“Sure. This way.” Francis led them to inclined metal doors that opened to stone steps leading down at the side of the house. “Cellar’s down here. Watch your head.”

The smell of damp earth met them as they entered the dark cellar. Francis screwed in a series of light bulbs as he proceeded across blanks laid on the earthen floor. “I want to look at the joists,” Russ said.

“The old beams are pretty well eaten up by boring beetles,” Francis said, “but you’ll see new ones have been laid along side and nailed to them.” Russ grunted a yes. “That’s a fairly new oil furnace and a brand new water heater. The electrical has been upgraded to two hundred amps with a breaker box. The plumbing’s all copper piping.”

“Not bad,” Russ commented.

Satisfied, they went upstairs where Kathleen, having returned from the river, was admiring the wide pine boards on the floor and the old doors with latches. She was delighted with the kitchen which had been remodeled with new cabinets, sink and recessed lighting. Russ praised the carpentry work. When they finished going through the whole house, even the attic, Russ said his only concern was the looseness of the windows in their frames. “I could probably tighten those up for you,” he added.

They left the house by the front door and Kathleen asked, “Have you been down to the river yet, Dad? There’s this beautiful shaded spot where the river pools around an old granite rock.”

Sam had sat by it with Annie, but was thrilled that Kathleen wanted to show it to him. “Lead the way.”

They walked past the garden and climbed down stone steps to the water. Jimmy went to the end of the granite rock, polished smooth by thousands of years of water coursing over it, and threw stones into the river. The adults sat on the bank by the pool. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of branches making patterns of light and shadow on the water.

Francis said, “I’ve got to leave. Another appointment. Stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks Francis,” Sam said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The agent left and Sam asked Kathleen what she thought of the house. “I love the house and the setting’s like a story book. But is it right for you? There’s no way you could keep it up by yourself. It’d take you a week just to mow the lawn.”

“I know. I’ll have to hire somebody.”

“I’ll do it, Gramps,” Jimmy said as he came up to them. “I can mow lawns.”

“And I could come out on weekends,” Russ said, “and help with upkeep.”

“Russ, for God’s sake!” Kathleen declared. “You’re not helping. I’m trying to talk some sense into him.”

Sam leaned back, locked his hands behind his head and gazed up at the sky. “Kathleen, I’ve been sensible all my life. It’s time I did something just because I want to.”

She sighed. “So you’re going to buy it.”

“I’m going to make an offer.”


Kathleen, Russ and Jimmy said their good byes at the house and returned directly to Marblehead. On the way to Annie’s house, Sam told her the news he’d been saving since returning from Pinnacle Kennels. She was astonished to learn that Sarah’s whereabouts could be traced three months after they’d last seen her. Over dinner they talked more, Annie digging for more details. Sam tried but couldn’t bring himself to tell her about Sarah and Dave.

That evening, sitting in the porch swing, Sam said, “I missed you.” She nodded languidly. Two swings later he added, “Strange beds are lonely.”

“I know, I’ve been there.”

Sam put his arm around her and pulled her close.

She shivered slightly against an evening chill and snuggled against him. “I missed you too.” They swung slowly. After a while Annie spoke. “I could almost cry when I think about Sarah being depressed. She was always so full of fun. I wonder what had gone wrong for her. I know she dreaded going back to work the day she left here. Maybe it had something to do with that.”

“Maybe.” Then gathering his courage, he said, “There’s something I didn’t tell you. According to Madeline, her depression evaporated when Dave Cowan arrived in his RV.” His voice grew scornful. “Before long they were taking walks, holding hands and laughing. When he left she went with him in his RV and spent the rest of the summer with him in Maine.”

“Uh huh,“ Annie said, pulling away from Sam. “So of course, you assume they were sleeping together.”

“Well, it’s damned hard not to. A week in the RV and two months in his cottage.”

“Oh, of course, and that’s why she drew her money out of her savings account so she could leave you and find some hunk. You’ve got it all figured out.”

“Annie, why the hell are you getting mad at me for thinking the obvious?”

“Because you’re not giving Sarah any credit. You can’t conceive that she could be having a good time with the person she’s writing about without jumping into bed with him.”

“Don’t do this, Annie? It’s hard enough that she’s left me.”

She put her feet down hard on the floor, stopping the swing and jumped up. In the kitchen she began slamming the dinner pots and pans into the sink. Sam stayed where he was. In less than two minutes she was back on the porch drying her hands on a towel.

“I’m sorry. I can see this has hit you pretty hard. But it’s all the more reason to get the matter settled.”

Sam nodded. “You’re right,” he said and patted the place next to him on the swing. “Sorry I got so riled up. “ She sat down and they rocked some more, Sam’s cheek resting on Annie’s head. He could smell her hair. When he breathed, it tickled his nose.

“On the flight home all I could think of was hurrying out here to be with you. Then Russ wanted to come and bring Kathleen. But it worked out all right. They didn’t stay.”

Annie burrowed further into his shoulder. The pressure of her body against him was what he’d longed for each time he crawled into the bed in the cottage. He tightened his hand on her arm, relishing the resilience of her flesh beneath the sweater. The hypnotic motion of the swing encouraged him to lean down and kiss her forehead. He heard her sigh.

“My kids wonder about my coming out here,” he said.

“What do you tell them about us?”

He shrugged. “That we’re good friends.”

“Do they believe you?”

“No. Kathleen worries that we’re lovers. Russ assumes we are and thinks it’s fine. Cynthia won’t even think about it.”

“What do you think we are?”

“Good friends. Maybe platonic lovers.”

She laughed. “There ain’t no such animal.”

They were quiet for a while, then Sam said, “I thought about you a lot on this trip. I wished you were with me in that cottage.” He felt her squirm uneasily. “I don’t mean making love. Just there together so I could reach over and touch you.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Maybe we could. Like in the old days. We could reinstitute the art of bundling.”

“Uh huh. It didn’t work then and it wouldn’t work now.”

“It would be nice, though.”

She moved out from under his arm. “Sam, let’s not joke about this.”

“I guess I wasn’t joking.”

“Enough!” she said sharply. “Stop it!”

Jolted, Sam looked at her.

Annie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I can’t even kid around about this. If you were somebody else and I were somebody else, I’d say, ‘Let’s give it a try and see where it goes.’ Hell, if we were different people we’d have gone to bed weeks ago. But we’re not. You’re a lonely guy looking for his wife, and I’m a divorced woman who’s vulnerable as hell.” She thought for a moment, then faced him. “I’m going to tell you something about me, because I want you to know who I am. I have a friend, another Newfy breeder. I see him at shows occasionally. He’s divorced too.” She waited a split second, then went on. “When we’re at the same show we share a hotel room. Dogs and our occasional times together are the only things we have in common. When the show’s over we go our separate ways until we happen to be at the same show again. If I never saw him again, I wouldn’t miss him.” She stopped and looked at Sam. “Are you shocked?”

“Not shocked, just . .” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not a nun, you know.”

“I never thought you were. But hell, Annie, I’m not a monk either.”

“Sam,” she said a little too loud, “this is not about you. So maybe I led you on by the way I kissed you when you left the last time. If I did, I’m sorry. This is about me. I am so close to falling in love with you I’m terrified. Right now I love you like I loved Sarah. If we go further, I’ll want to hold on to you for the rest of my life. And if you find Sarah, then what’ll happen to me? I’d be out of the picture. And Sam,” she said emphatically, “I’m not going to let myself get hurt. I would rather never find someone to love than be hurt again. And I have been. Twice since my divorce.”

Sam closed his eyes. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. He wanted to hold her and rub her back and breath the scent of her hair.

“Sam,” she said, her voice still agitated, “just relax. Get out there and find Sarah,” — she hesitated — “or somebody. Just get it settled.”

“For Christ’s sake,” he blurted, his frustration surfacing, “that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Are you really looking for her,” she shouted, “or are you just playing detective, looking for clues.” Then with an aha, she declared, “I knew there was something that bothered me about the way you described your trip. You’ve changed Sarah from a person into a goddammed mystery to be solved.”

Sam jumped to his feet. “Well thanks a lot,” he yelled. “You haven’t the slightest idea how I feel about Sarah.”

Instantly, Molly and Maggie joined the fray, barking and pushing themselves between them. “Oh, get the hell outta the way,” Sam snarled at the dogs and turning, went upstairs.


It was past midnight when Sam knocked on Annie’s open door. “Annie?” he whispered. In the dim light he could see Maggie’s head rise from the bed.

“Hi Sam. I can’t sleep either. Come-on in.”

Careful not to step on Molly in the darkness, he shuffled across the room to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m sorry too. Have a seat.”

“On the bed?”

“On the edge of the bed,” Annie said.

“You promise not to ravish me?”

From a shadow on the bed he could hear her laugh. “I promise. Anyway, Maggie wouldn’t let me.”

He laughed too and sat on the bed. “You were right about Sarah. I mean about the way I’ve turned her into a kind of riddle. Believe me though, I do want to get this settled.”

He felt Annie’s hand touch his. “Sam, I’ve been lying here all night thinking about this, and please don’t take offense at what I’m going to say.” She squeezed his hand by way of asking, and he squeezed back his assent. “You probably are going to find out what’s happened to her.”

“I know.”

“One way or another, this thing’s going to get resolved. But it’s important for you to keep looking, not to find out where she is, but who she is.”

“Who she is?” Sam asked.

“Yes. Who was the Sarah that planned to leave you?” Sam winced and tried to draw back his hand, but Annie held it tightly. “Who was the person who made the sudden decision to go to that dog show in San Francisco? And who was the Sarah who went to Maine with Dave Cowan?”

He sat in the darkness for several moments without speaking, then he said, “I know you’re right. But I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Afraid that if she’s alive, she no longer loves me. Or,” his voice faltering, “that I don’t love her.”

Chapter Twenty-Three