Still chuckling, Ripley hauled herself to her feet as her brother and Lucy plowed through the snow toward the back of the house. Nothing, she thought, like a good snow fight to put everything back on an even keel. As soon as she finished the walk, she would go inside and make nice to Nell.

Still, she'd counted on Nell's having a little more sense of humor. What was a little snow between friends? Brushing herself off, Ripley picked up the shovel, then heard the pained howl, the wild barks.

Gripping the shovel like a bat, she raced around the side of the house. As she cleared the corner, she was greeted by a face full of snow. The shocked gasp caused her to swallow some of it, choke. As she spit it out, rubbed it off her face, she saw her brother, covered to his shoulders with snow.

And Nell, standing with a smug smile, and two empty buckets. She banged them together smartly to shake out any remaining snow. "That," she said with a nod, "was reflex."

"Boy." Ripley tried to dig under her collar where snow was dribbling, cold and wet. "She's good."

She was ableto maintain the good, even mood through most of the day. She might've stayed there if Dennis Ripley hadn't come shuffling into the station house.

"It's my favorite delinquent." As he rarely failed to entertain her, Ripley propped her feet on the desk and prepared to enjoy the show. "What's up with you?"

"I'm supposed to apologize for causing trouble, and to thank you for taking me back to school, and blah blah."

"Gosh, Den." Ripley dabbed at an imaginary tear. "I'm touched."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Mom said I had to. I got two days ISS, I'm grounded for three weeks, and I have to write essays on responsibility and honesty."

"Essays? That's the worst, huh?"

"Yeah." He plopped down in the chair across from her, sighed weightily. "I guess it was pretty stupid."

"Guess it was."

"No point in hooking school in the winter," he added.

"No comment. How about the history test?"

"I passed."

"No kidding? You are a jackass, Den."

"Well, it wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. And Mom didn't wear me out like I figured she would. Dad either. I just got the lecture."

"Oh." Ripley obliged him with a shudder and made him grin. "Not the lecture!"

"I can use most of it in the essays. I guess I learned my lesson, though."

"Do tell."

"Well, besides planning better so you don't freeze your ears off in the woods when you ditch school, it's less trouble to just do what you're supposed to-mostly-in the first place."

"Mostly," she agreed. And because she loved him, she rose to make him a cup of instant hot chocolate.

"And because you made me go in and say what I did, right out, I didn't have to sweat it out, you know? Dad said how when you mess up, you have to face up to it, make it right. Then people respect you, and even more, you can, you know, respect yourself."

She felt a twinge in her gut as she dumped chocolate powder in a mug. "Man," she muttered.

"Everybody makes mistakes, but cowards hide from them. That's a good one, doncha think, Aunt Rip? I can use that in the essay."

"Yeah." She cursed under her breath. "That's a good one."

If a twelve-year-old boycould face the music, Ripley told herself, then a thirty-year-old woman had to be able to do the same.

Maybe she'd rather be grounded, maybe she'd rather write the dreaded essay than knock on Mac's door. But there was no option. Not with guilt, shame, and the example of a twelve-year-old crowding her.

She thought Mac might just slam the door in her face, and she couldn't find it in herself to blame him if he did. Of course,if he did, then she could just write a polite note of apology. Which was almost like an essay when you thought about it.

Face-to-face had to be the first move, though. So she stood in front of his cottage door as the light dimmed with dusk, and prepared to eat crow.

He opened the door. He was wearing his glasses, and a sweatshirt that carried an emblem from Whatsamatta U and a picture of Bullwinkle. Under any other circumstances, it would have been amusing.

"Deputy Todd," he said. Very coolly.

"Can I come in for a minute?" She swallowed the first stringy morsel of crow. "Please."

He stepped back, gestured.

She could see he'd been working. A couple of the monitors were booted up. One of them had zigzagging lines that put her in mind of hospital equipment.

He had a fire going, and she could smell stale coffee.

"I'm interrupting," she began.

"That's all right. Let me take your coat."

"No." Defensively, she pulled it tighter. "This won't take long, then I'll get out of your hair. I want to apologize for the other day. I was wrong. Totally wrong, and completely out of line. There's no excuse for what I did, what I said, or how I behaved."

"Well, that about covers it." He'd wanted to stay angry with her. He'd been very comfortable in that groove. "Accepted."

She jammed her hands in her pockets. She didn't like it when things were too easy. "I overreacted," she said.

"I'm not going to argue there."

"I'd like to finish." Her voice frosted.

"Go right ahead."

"I don't know why I overreacted, but that's what I did. Even if you had been with Mia in a ... in an intimate fashion, it was none of my business. I'm responsible for my own actions, my own decisions, and my own choices, and that's the way I like it."

"Ripley," he said, gently now. "Let me take your coat."