“See you next Monday afternoon,” she said, trying to sound offhand instead of lonely. “We’ll have our work cut out for us then, because it’ll be the day before I have the prayer luncheon.”

I wondered if she would want me to put bows on Durwood’s ears again, like I had the last time Birdie had hosted the prayer luncheon. The spaniel and I exchanged glances. Luckily for me, Durwood was the kind of dog who didn’t hold a grudge. I nodded, grabbed up my caddy of cleaning products and rags, and retreated before Mrs. Rossiter could think of something else to talk about. It was time to get to my next job, Camille Emerson’s. I gave Durwood a farewell pat on the head as I opened the front door. “He’s looking good,” I offered. Durwood’s poor health and bad eyesight were a never-ending worry to his owner. A few months before, he’d tripped Birdie with his leash and she’d broken her arm, but that hadn’t lessened her attachment to the dog.

“I think he’s good as gold,” Birdie told me, her voice firm. She stood on her front porch watching me as I put my supplies in the car and slid into the driver’s seat. She laboriously squatted down by Durwood and made the dog raise his paw and wave good-bye to me. I lifted my hand: I knew from experience that she wouldn’t stop Durwood’s farewell until I responded.

As I thought about what I had to do next, I was almost tempted to turn off the engine and sit longer, listening to the ceaseless stream of Birdie Rossiter’s talk. But I started the car, backed out of her driveway, and looked both ways several times before venturing out. There wasn’t much traffic on Farm Hill Road, but what there was tended to be fast and careless.

I knew that when I drew opposite the unmarked road, I would stop on the narrow grassy shoulder. My window was open. When I cut my engine, the silence took over. I heard… nothing.

I got out and closed the door behind me. A breeze lifted my short, curly hair and made my T-shirt feel inadequate. I shivered. The tingling feeling at the back of my neck was warning me to drive off but sometimes, I guess, you just can’t dodge the bullet.