They’ve been going round Robin’s barn about fixing the thing ever since I arrived, and I suspect they’d been debating it for some years before. Probably what finished off the late, much-lamented Father Hames.” She stirred a strand of melted cheese into her chili. “Now, of course, they’ll have to make decisions. Unfortunately, they’re going to be based on expediency instead of careful consideration.”

Russ Van Alstyne pointed to her onion rings. “Are you going to finish those?” She waved him to help himself. “You ought to set that janitor of yours on it. I thought he was supposed to keep things running around there.”

“The sexton,” she stressed Mr. Hadley’s title, “is unbolting the pew from the floor and putting it in storage.”

“I hear a but coming.”

“But he’s in his seventies and he’s not exactly in the best of health. I already have to do some fancy footwork to keep him from lugging heavy objects and climbing up the extension ladder to replace bulbs. I can just picture him clambering around an icy pitched roof trying to figure out what’s wrong. He might survive, but I’d probably have a heart attack.”

Russ laughed. “You young whippersnappers underestimate us geezers. I do my own roofing repairs. And my farmhouse is a good half century older than your church.”

“You”-she pointed her spoon at him-“are forty-nine, not seventy-three. And I’m going to assume you aren’t repairing the roof in this kind of weather.” She looked back out the window and shuddered. “I can’t believe it’s Ash Wednesday and we’re still stuck in full-blown winter. Do you know what the temperature was at my parents’ when I called them last Sunday? Fifty-seven degrees.”

“You’re the one who thought it was a good idea to move from southern Virginia to the Adirondack Mountains. Quit your complaining, spring is coming.”

“Two weeks in May. Some spring.”

“This is your second March here. You ought to be prepared for it this time around.”