Cassie shrugged. "Well, yeah. You have some archaic idea of leaving my house untouched forever, which is pretty amazing, since you don't even own the property."

"Uh-huh." He didn't say anything else, but kept his eyes focused straight ahead.

"But I figured with all your boil lancing, baby birthing, town counciling, and tree baby-sitting, you wouldn't have had the time to do some vandalizing, too." Cassie paused for a moment, waiting for a response. When she received none, she continued. "Anyway, the sheriff at first thought it was kids pulling pranks-like Mr. Haney's boys. They've always been wild, and now Haney works for Roust, so that would make sense. But he found footprints in the mud around the house, so we have our first clue to go on. He's working on it now and should be able to show whether or not the boys were involved."

She shifted in her seat, readjusting the fried okra in her lap. "And Jim Roust keeps calling me. At least that guy from Preservation magazine is polite when he calls. I actually tell him no, thanks before I hang up on him. When Roust calls and I recognize his voice, I hang up right away. I guess that wouldn't really put me in his good graces, but it would be hard to believe that a man of his standing in the business community would resort to guerrilla tactics. Especially with what he did to Ed Farrell's construction site."

A dog ran in front of the truck, causing Sam to slam on the brakes. The fried okra nearly slid from Cassie's lap, and a quick check of the backseat reassured her that the cake hadn't suffered the same fate.

Joey looked up at her with wide eyes. "I got it, Aunt Cassie. I was holding it real tight. It did slide a little bit, but I think it made it a bit straighter."

Sam chuckled, and Cassie elbowed him.

Clearing his throat, Sam asked, "What happened at Farrell's site? I hadn't heard anything."

"He said that all the bathroom fixtures had been taken out of the condo in the middle of the night. He was pretty sure it was Roust."

His brows furrowed. "Funny. I hadn't heard anything about that. And Ed told you about it?"

Cassie nodded.

Sam started to say something when he caught sight of Joey in the rearview mirror. "What kind of cake is that?"

The little boy wrinkled his nose. "Pineapple upside-down cake. Aunt Cassie made it all by herself."

With an interested nod, Sam said, "I can see that. I don't ever think I've seen one with such an, um, interesting shape to it, though. Who's it for?"

Cassie fixed him with an evil look. "The fried okra's for Miss Lena, but the cake is for Mrs. Crandall. My mama always taught me that you shouldn't return a dish without something on it."

Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide a laugh. "Do you think I need to stick around for a while to make sure she's okay after she eats it?"

She slapped him on the shoulder with her wet umbrella, spraying water droplets all around the front cab of the truck. Still, she couldn't resist a smile, even though the news via phone from Atlanta had not been good. Despite the upbeat tone from both Harriet and Joe and the ever-hopeful words of "more tests," Cassie knew she was not being told the whole story. She was almost glad. The truth would come sooner or later, and she'd have to deal with it. But for now she was enjoying being with her nieces and nephew, allowing them their last days of carefree bliss before their lives would be irrevocably changed forever. She glanced at Sam, noticing the crease lines in his face from grinning and the bright blue of his eyes. Yes, it felt good to smile again.

Mrs. Crandall opened her front door, and Cassie watched the older lady's frown as she examined the cake.

"It's a pineapple upside-down cake," explained Cassie.

Mrs. Crandall brightened, "Oh, yes. I see. And my favorite, too. Thanks very much, dear."

A small black poodle appeared from behind the door, nipping at her ankles. Cassie almost suggested feeding the cake to the dog first, just to be sure. "You're welcome." With a small wave, she walked back down the sidewalk and hoisted herself into Sam's truck.

As she buckled her seat belt, she said under her breath, "You'd think some people had never seen a pineapple upside-down cake before."

"Well, Mrs. Crandall certainly has. She's a major contender in the Kudzu Festival Bake-Off each year with her own rendition. Maybe she'll be calling you later to find out how you did that interesting shape."

Cassie slid lower into her seat with a groan. "Well, at least I didn't make the fried okra. I'd hate to be accused of trying to kill Miss Lena, too."

Joey laughed from the backseat, then joined in with Sam to sing along at the top of his lungs with the man on the radio waxing poetic about a woman named Carlene.

Despite the rain, Miss Lena sat out on her porch, her ubiquitous pink cardigan over her shoulders and stockings rolled down around her ankles. A new romance novel was clutched between aging hands, making Cassie grin.

Miss Lena looked up with a bright smile as Sam approached, Cassie and Joey following close behind with the fried okra. "Good afternoon, Miss Lena." Sam leaned down and gave the old lady a peck on the cheek.

"Well, good morning. What a nice surprise. Did I have an appointment today?" Her smile dimmed somewhat as confusion seemed to settle over her.

Gently, Sam said, "No, Miss Lena. This is just a social call. You remember Cassie, Harrison and Catherine Anne's oldest. And this big guy . . ." He pushed Joey to stand in front of the old lady. "This is Joey. Harriet and Joe Warner's boy."

Miss Lena's eyes sharpened. "Joey?" She shook her head. "No, that isn't right. That's not what they called him." She looked down at her lap, her lips moving. "It was Frank or Fred. . . ." Her sparse brows furrowed, her fingers plucking at her pink sweater in agitation. "I . . . I can't remember. . . ." Her voice faded, her gray eyes staring intently at Joey.

"My name is Joey." The little boy stuck out his lower lip, then hid his face in Cassie's blouse.

Cassie patted Joey on the shoulder. "We've brought you some fried okra for dinner. Aunt Lucinda made it. She said it's your favorite."

Miss Lena didn't seem to be listening. Her eyes seemed to focus somewhere behind Cassie's shoulder as she spoke. "I only got to see him that once, and then they took him away. . . ."

Sam took the casserole from Cassie. "I'll bring Joey more often, if you like. I've just always thought that little boys might be a little rambunctious for you."

A small smile wandered over her lips. "Oh, no. Little boys are wonderful."

Cassie helped the old lady up from her chair, then led her into the house behind Sam and Joey.

As Sam deposited the casserole in the kitchen, Cassie situated Miss Lena in her favorite armchair and made her comfortable. Joey sat as far away as he could on the faded chintz sofa and kept a wary eye on the old woman.

Miss Lena settled back in her chair and opened her book again. "This book is just wonderful. It's one of those Viking stories. I had no idea how lustful they were back then."

Cassie sent a quick glance at Joey and noticed him listening intently. As Miss Lena began to read from the book, Cassie quickly placed her hands over Joey's ears.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Miss Lena, but I noticed a few weeds in your front garden, and I just want to take Joey outside to take care of that for you. I'll be right back." Firmly grabbing his arm, she led Joey out of the house.

When she returned, the older woman had fallen asleep in her chair, the book having fallen on the floor at her side; and a gentle snore rumbled in her chest. Quietly, Cassie picked up the book and put it on a table within easy reach.

She sat on the ottoman and regarded Miss Lena closely.

"What are you doing?"

She jerked around at the sound of Sam's voice.

Shrugging, she stood. "Just looking at her. And wondering. Wondering what her story is. She has no family except for her sister in Mobile, but lots of friends, and she's never been married. I wonder why."

Sam leaned against the console TV and crossed his arms over his chest. "From what I understand, it wasn't from lack of interest by Walton's young bucks. Miss Lena was a rare beauty by all accounts. Look at this."

He crossed the room in two long strides to a cherry curio cabinet. Opening it, he pulled out a framed picture and handed it to Cassie.

The woman in the black-and-white colorized picture wore a 1940s dress with large shoulders, big buttons, and a tiny waist. Her hair gleamed in dark curls that framed an oval face with delicate features and large, almond-shaped eyes. Her seductive smile spoke of a secret yet to be revealed.

Cassie gently stroked the glass, wiping off dust. "Oh, my gosh. She's beautiful." She looked back at the sleeping woman. "I can certainly tell there's a story there somewhere. I mean, look at this expression. She's definitely been up to something."

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I've always thought the same thing. I've tried to get her to tell me things, to write them down, but her mind doesn't stay on any one topic for very long. I really hate to think her stories might die with her."

An unexplainable, deep sadness rushed through Cassie like a wave at high tide, burying all under its force. She stared at the gnarled hands on the armrests and wondered if they had ever caressed a lover's cheek, held another's hand at a movie, or clutched at a shoulder in passion. Had Miss Lena denied herself all these years, not willing to settle for "good enough," or had she simply grown old waiting for the love of her life to show up?

Cassie looked at the portrait again, raising a finger to wipe off a smudge on the glass, then froze. The room seemed to fade from her peripheral vision as she lowered her head to examine the picture more closely. Her breath stilled, her hands shaking, as she studied the necklace the woman wore-a small gold locket.

"Sam."

He turned quickly, as if recognizing the urgency in her voice. Without a word, she handed him the portrait, pointing at the locket.

He stared at it for a long time, his forehead creased, until he finally looked back at Cassie. "I can't believe I missed it. Her full name is Eulene. Eulene Larsen. It's written on her medical charts in my office, and it never even occurred to me." Quietly, he replaced the portrait where he'd found it.

Cassie moved as if awakened from a stupor and pulled an afghan off the back of the sofa. Settling it gently on Miss Lena's lap, she tucked it around the sleeping woman's bare legs. Afraid to speak, she motioned to Sam to follow her and left.

The ride back to Cassie's house was quiet except for Joey, in the backseat, singing along with the radio. A brief respite from the summer heat had blown in with the storm, and the windows were open to enjoy the coolness of the rain-sweetened air.

Finally, Sam spoke. "So, what are you going to do?"

Cassie continued looking out the window. "I don't really know. I think Daddy kept the secret to protect Miss Lena and her reputation. I'm not sure it would be the right thing to do to let her know that we know."

Sam's voice was quiet. "Not that she'll remember, anyway. There's a good chance that she's blocked out all of that completely."

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Maybe it doesn't matter. My sibling doesn't want to be found, so maybe I should just leave it at that."

Reluctantly, she met Sam's gaze. His eyes were hard and serious. "You do what you think is right, Cassie. Though I don't think a little bit of quicksand ever hurt anybody."

Sam stuck his head out the window and sniffed. "I smell something burning-like leaves. But it's too early for that."

Cassie sniffed, too, and was about to comment when she spotted the fire truck coming out of her driveway, passing them on Madison Lane. Unlatching her seat belt, she clutched the door handle. "Hurry, Sam."

He had barely stopped before Cassie opened her door, jumped out of the truck, and started to run. Without stopping, she called out over her shoulder, "Sam-stay with Joey."

Aunt Lucinda and a small group of people hovered around the old magnolia in the front yard. She recognized a few of the neighbors, too, and they were all shaking their heads.

"What happened?" Her breath came in heavy pants.

Lucinda touched her arm. "It's okay now-thank God. But some-body set fire to the dry leaves under the magnolia. Thank goodness so many of them were damp from the rain or this whole part of the yard would have just gone up like tinder."

Cassie stared at the blackened leaves at the base of her tree, smelling the acrid stench of wet leaves and something like gasoline. Her throat tightened. "Is the tree . . . damaged?"

Mr. Haney, their nearest neighbor, stepped forward. "I don't think so. It just appears to be singed a bit. I'd have a tree surgeon look at it just in case, though. Hate for you to lose such a fine tree." He shook his head sadly.

Mrs. Haney peeked out from behind her husband's shoulder. "I just don't know what's happening to our neighborhood. It used to be so peaceful. I suppose it's because of all them new folks." She cast a disparaging glance in the direction of Farrellsford. "And to think I slept last night with my doors unlocked. Don't think I'll be doing that again."

Cassie eyed the Haneys carefully, wondering why they were there. "How did this happen?"

Aunt Lucinda wiped her hair off her forehead, watching Sam approach with Joey. "I was in the study, going through your father's things, just like you asked, when I smelled smoke. I looked out the window and stared out at the lawn until I saw smoke rising up from this tree. I didn't even think. I called 911 and got all the children out of the house. Madison had just come home from school, and she went and got a hose, but the fire truck came before she even had a chance to get it all the way out here. The fire chief says it's definitely arson. Said something about detecting an accelerate, whatever that is." A small sheen of perspiration shone through Lucinda's flawless makeup.

Cassie stared at the singed base of the tree, a small furrow between her eyebrows. "Why would anybody want to hurt my tree?"

The small crowd began to disperse, giving Cassie small pats and smiles of sympathy as they left. Mrs. Haney mentioned something about a neighborhood-watch group and said she'd call.

Cassie faced the Haneys, fists on her hips. "You do that. And you can also tell Mr. Roust that no matter what he does, I'm not selling him my land. And the guys that are doing this for him are bound to be caught sooner or later, so you might want to pass along that message to your boys."

The Haneys both looked at her with stunned expressions. Richard Haney stepped forward, his face grim. "You think our boys had something to do with this? Well, you're just plain crazy. Sure, they're wild and all, but they'd never do something like this. And as for Roust being behind all this, believe me-he's got much bigger fish to fry than you. If he wanted this land, he'd have had it long ago." Grabbing his wife's elbow, they stalked away in the direction of their property line.

Sam crouched in front of the magnolia. "Your tree will be fine, Cassie-don't worry. I would like to suggest rigging a spotlight from the house to illuminate this part of the yard. Unless you want to camp out again tonight." He sent her a wicked grin, and she felt herself blushing up to her hairline.

Sarah Frances came racing out the front door. "Aunt Cassie- telephone. It's Principal Purdy." She looked at her older sister with an impish grin and began to chant, "Maddie's in trouble, Maddie's in trouble."

"Hush, child." Lucinda grabbed the young girl by the shoulders, hugging her, her face pressed against her side to muffle the girl's voice.

Cassie sighed. She wondered if it could have something to do with Maddie not making the cheerleading squad again. High school had been in session for a week, and the disappointment hadn't even seemed to phase Maddie. She even seemed almost cheerful.

"Let me go take that phone call. Would you mind coming with me, Sam? I've got a check for your dad to pay for Andrew's car. I keep for-getting to bring it by."

As they walked across the lawn, Cassie noticed Madison disap-pearing around the corner of the house. She seemed to be in a hurry.

She took the phone in her father's office after first hunting for it amid the piles of papers and boxes. Sam lifted a golf club off brackets on the wall and started practicing his swing.

Cassie held the receiver to her ear and said hello. The principal's voice seemed strained as it came through the phone. "Hello, Cassie. I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I understand you're in charge while Joe and Harriet are in Atlanta."

"Ah, yes. That's right. What can I do for you?"

"Well." There was a long pause. "This is about Maddie. There's been a sort of . . . incident, and I need to sit down and talk with you about it."

"What kind of incident?"

"It involves Lucy Spafford. And, um, I'd rather not discuss it over the phone, but would like you to come down to my office? Would you be available in an hour, say about five o'clock?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be there." She frowned into the receiver, wondering why a thirty-five-year-old professional was still afraid of her old high school principal.

After hanging up the phone, she went to the desk drawer and handed Sam the check for the car repair. He took it, staring at her with a curious expression. "What's wrong?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure. But it involves Maddie and Lucy Spafford. Principal Purdy wants me to come to his office to discuss it. I was wondering . . ."

She stopped, and Sam tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Well, if you could come with me. I'm not good at this parenting thing, and I think I'll be needing moral support."

Sam hung the golf club back on the wall. "It's not you who's in trouble, you know. But if you think it will help, I'll be glad to go with you. I am Maddie's godfather, after all. Just let me call the clinic and let Mary Jane know where I am."

She touched his arm. "Just don't tell her why, okay?"

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Maddie was conspicuously absent as she and Sam got into the truck. Cassie had a nagging feeling that she'd soon find out why.

Principal Purdy was cordial enough as Cassie and Sam entered the familiar office. Except for the desktop computer and fax machine, not much had changed since the days she had been a frequent visitor. Mr. Purdy accepted Sam's presence and ushered them both inside before motioning for them to sit in two chairs facing his desk.

After he sat, the principal steepled his fingers and was quiet for a few long moments, as if hunting about for the correct words. His hair, now completely white, had thinned considerably, with only thin strands spread over his balding pate like a spider's web.