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another housekeeper, if he needed to.
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A fierce gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. More pine needles flew. Beauty the pony neighed outside,
alarmed.
Was there any suitable cover for the animals? Josh had a vision of the chicks getting blown away. He
hurried out. The back door almost yanked from his grasp as the wind caught it. The green roofing panels
vibrated with a loud burr and seemed about to lift from the porch.
Outside it was worse. The pony had her posterior to the wind, her mane blown forward. Acorns
descended like hail from a smaller tree to the side. Josh shielded his eyes with one hand. Where could he
put the pony? There really did not seem to be any better place than where she was. "Sorry, girl," he told
her. "Maybe one day I'll build a good shelter for you." The chicks and kittens were huddled under the
shed where the wind hardly touched. They, at least, did not suffer from fear of ghosts! Now if only the
shed were properly anchored
The shed? What about the cabin? Josh angled his torso into the wind and navigated for the cabin,
determined to verify its anchorage. There was nothing he could do if it blew loose, but he had to check.
The fury of the wind tormented the smaller trees. There was a crack as a turkey oak snapped. Half its
length dangled, forming an inverted L. This was not the hurricane, but there seemed to be hurricane-force
gusts here!
The cabin was all right. It was mounted on a dozen concrete blocks filled with cement, and metal bands
extended from the cement to the wood. The building wouldn't blow away.
Now rain was sluicing down. Josh lumbered back toward the house.
There was a smell, dank yet warm, as of a wet, living body. Josh's nose remained allergically stuffed, but
this was strong enough to taste. It suffused the air, cloying, awful. Like the odor that had been associated
with Foster's death, but stronger. The children had mentioned
Josh took momentary shelter by the northward-leaning trunk of the big tree. And recoiled.
It was hot. It was as though a fire had burned here recently, radiating into the trunk but of course there
had been no fire. Perhaps a lightning strike, though he had heard no crack of thunder. What was that
Foster had said about the frequency of lightning strikes in this region?
The stench was intolerable. Burning garbage? Maybe ball lightning had incinerated the nearby leaves and
fungus. He knew next to nothing about that phenomenon but understood that some strange effects were
possible. The odor if the wood were scorched by the current, invisibly, deep down inside
More rain pelted down. There was a noise very like a groan. The wind cutting past the branches, of
course but suddenly Josh felt extremely uneasy. A monster, the children said. Surely not, yet it became
easy to believe in the midst of the tempest. He ducked his head and hurried on to the house.
The storm abated before the school bus came, to Josh's relief. The hurricane had vented its main force
elsewhere; this had only been an eddy.
Next day he drove to the other Heatherwood to see the accountant. It was a fair labyrinth, but he followed
the instructions faithfully and located the address. He was right on time, having allowed a margin for
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confusion. He usually was prompt; it was part of his nature.
The house was a modern neat one-floor structure with a tiled roof, reminiscent of the ones he was used to
in the north. Mr. Graham was surely a conventional man. Josh hoped the accountant would be up to the
challenge of educating an intruder from another discipline.
A woman answered the door. She was attractive in a light print dress and shoulder-length brown hair. She
glanced askance at him.
"My name is Joshua Pinson. I'm here to see Mr. Graham about a matter of accounting."
"Of course," she said. Her voice sounded familiar. "Come in, Mr. Pinson."
Josh stepped in. He had not dressed formally; now, in this tastefully neat house, he felt a bit out of place.
He wondered whether this quest was worthwhile. It really depended on the accountant.
"Come to the office, please," the woman said, leading the way. She was of medium height and well
proportioned, though somewhat beyond the bloom of youth. There seemed to be a touch of humor in her
voice, though Josh could not place its reason.
The office was spare, with desk and chairs, and a certificate posted on the wall. "Have a seat, Mr.
Pinson," she said, and took the desk herself.
Josh sat. "Oh you're the CPA? I expected "
She indicated the certificate. "Philippa Graham, CPA."
"Philippa?" He looked at her from a new mental alignment. "Oh, no! Not the horsewoman!"
She smiled. "I know, I know! You didn't recognize me in clothing."
"I didn't recognize you," he agreed ruefully. "You, in that dress "
"Say what is on your mind, Mr. Pinson."
"Well, you're a comely woman."
"In contrast to my usual state?"
"I suspect I have dug myself in deep enough. Why didn't you tell me it was you?"
"I was disinclined to mix business with pleasure."
"This is business," he said. "I really do mean to explore the possibility of "
"Certainly. And I believe we can do business. Otherwise I would not have given you my number. As it
was, you caught my father by surprise."
Her father the man who had answered the phone. "I assumed he was an associate," Josh admitted.
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"Now I can provide you with the fundamentals "
"Miss Graham, I am not certain I "
"Oh, it's Miss Graham, now?"
"Pip," Josh said with difficulty. "I just don't think "
"Oh? Changed your mind? Because I'm a woman or because I'm a neighbor?"
"One or the other," Josh admitted.
"I trust you are aware this is fighting language?" And she was a fighting woman.
"Yes," Josh agreed. "I'm not saying no, I'm just saying I need to think about this. I'm just not certain I
want to work with you in this capacity."
She frowned. "Now I don't really need the business, Mr. Pinson. I "
"Mr. Pinson?"
She flashed a smile. "Touché, Josh. I don't have to trick anybody into hiring me. I am the best CPA in
these parts. I'm not sure I even intended to charge you for this service. It intrigues me, that's all. It's a
challenge. And perhaps I just want to find out how smart you are when you're learning. I get a little bit
competitive about smart people, especially smart male-people. But I can do the job, and I resent "
"Much as you would put a new horse through its paces," Josh said.
She paused, realizing that she had been scored upon again. "Touchy male ego. Very well. Let's think
about it. I've got to shop for hay anyway. You need hay too."
"Hay?" This abrupt shift of subject disgruntled him.
"What horses eat. I saw an ad for hay in bulk at a good price, and thought I'd check it out. Callie. I
usually stick to Coastal Bermuda, but one has to move with the times."
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