She heard his yowl of pain when he bumped his head on the window, and felt no sympathy. He was twelve, and any boy of twelve who didn’t own a hard head should, in her opinion, develop one. He went still for a moment, half in, half out, battle-scarred hightops dangling. Then, slowly, he wiggled to the ground. His hair was pale blond and stuck out in tufts around his ski cap. Freckles exploded over his face and stood out in sharp relief against his bright flush.

“Ah . . . hi, Aunt Ripley,” he said innocently.

He was, Ripley thought with admiration, an operator. “That’s Deputy Todd to you, you little weasel. What’re you doing crawling in the window?”

“Um. I don’t have a key?”

“Dennis.”

“Well, I don’t. Mom and some of her lady friends went over to the mainland to shop and stuff. She must’ve locked the door.”

“Let’s try the question this way. Why are you crawling in the window of your own house instead of sitting at your desk at school?”

“Because I’m sick?” he answered hopefully.

“Is that so? Come on, then, I’ll take you over to the clinic right now. Your mother has her cell phone, doesn’t she? We’ll just give her a call and let her know her sweet baby boy’s feeling poorly. I bet she’ll come home on the next ferry.”

Ripley had the satisfaction of watching his face blanch. “Don’t call her. Okay? Please? I’m feeling a lot better. It musta been something I ate is all.”

“I just bet. Spill it, kiddo, and if you try to bullshit me again, I’m hauling you to the clinic and telling them to get out their biggest, dullest needle.”

“We’re having a history test,” he blurted out, and talked very fast now. “History’s the pits, Aunt Rip. It’s all about dead people, anyway. So, you know, who cares? And it’s like European history crap, and we don’t even live there. I mean, hey, do you know the capital ofLiechtenstein ?”

“Didn’t study, did you?”

He shifted from foot to foot—Jeez, what was it with boys and their big clown feet, she wondered—and attempted a pitiful look from under his lashes. “I guess maybe not.”

“So you decided to blow off the test and hook school.”

“Just one stupid day. I could take the test later. I was going to hang out in the woods today, and study,”

he added, with quick inspiration. “But it’s too cold.”

“So you were going to go inside . . . and study.”

“Um. Yeah! Yeah, I was going to hit the books. Couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t see me?”

“No.”

“Aw, Aunt Rip.” He sighed, recognizing the look on her face. “Deputy Todd.”

She hooked him by the ear. “You’re getting a police escort to school.”

“Mom’s going to kill me.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m going to fail the test.”

“Should’ve studied for it.”

“I’ll get in-school suspension.”

“Kid, you’re breaking my heart.”

When he muttered “shit” under his breath, she gave the back of his head a quick tap. “Watch the mouth, peewee. We’re going to pay a visit to the assistant principal, you’ll make a full confession, and take your lumps.”

“Like you never hooked school.”

“When I did, I had enough brains not to get caught. Therein, young Skywalker, is the power of the Force.”

He snorted out a laugh. And because he did, because he was hers, she walked him the rest of the way to judgment with her arm companionably around his shoulders.

The morning’s work and her replay of both incidents for Zack put her in a much better frame of mind. She strolled into the bookstore, looking for lunch, and gave a quick wave at Lulu.

“Put your belly on hold a minute and come over here.”

“About a minute’s all my belly can wait.” But Ripley detoured and walked to the counter. “What’s up?”

“I got a letter from Jane.”

“Yeah?” Ripley thought of the café’s former chef. She and her man had taken off forNew York so he could have a shot at a part in an Off Broadway play. “How’re they doing?”

“Well enough. Sounds to me like they mean to stay.” Lulu glanced toward the stairs, lowered her voice.

“Guess who strolled, big as life, into the bakery where Jane’s working?”

“Harrison Ford.” At Lulu’s steely stare, Ripley shrugged. “I’ve had a thing for him lately. Okay, who?”

“Sam Logan.”

“No shit?” Ripley’s voice dropped as well. “What does Jane say about him? How’s he look? What’s he doing?”

“If you’d shut up for five seconds I’ll tell you. He looks, so Jane says, better than ever. Tall, dark, and dangerous. That’s Jane speaking. She got all giddy because he recognized her. She never had two licks of sense. I don’t suppose he said what he was doing, or she didn’t ask, otherwise she’d have put every word of it down. But she did say he asked after Mia.”

“What do you mean, ‘asked after’?”

“Just that, casual, according to Jane. ‘How’s Mia?’ ”

“And?”

“And nothing. That was it, that was all. He bought a box of pastries, wished Jane good luck, and walked out again.”

Considering, Ripley pursed her lips, juggled the angles in her mind. “Funny coincidence. Of all the bakeries in all the city, he walks into the bakery where Mia’s ex-cook works.”

“I don’t think it was coincidence. I think his curiosity took him there.”

“I won’t disagree. Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” Lulu sucked air through her nose. “I thought about it, chewed on it, twisted it around, and I don’t see the point.”

“Are you asking my opinion?”

“Do you think I’m telling you all this to give my tongue a workout?”

“Okay, then I agree with you. There’s no point in it. It still hurts her.” She sighed because it could still hurt, just a bit, to know that Mia hurt. “Besides, if Mia wanted to know what he’s up to, she could find out.”