She had to lengthen her stride to hit the stepping-stones that linked their back doors. The hedges between the houses joined the hedges running down the sides of the yard, making an H of greenery. Her parents had planted it for privacy from the street on one side and from neighbors on the other; and to separate the office and home backyards. It had gotten out of hand, and Catherine reminded herself, as she went through the gap planned for her father’s passage, that she needed to take care of it.

I ought to do it myself, she thought. Then she looked down at her arms, too pink and tender from exposure to the sun the day before, and decided to hire someone.

What are these bushes, anyway? she wondered. She rubbed some leaves between her fingers, which of course told her nothing. She was trying to avoid thinking about the Galtons, Senior and Junior. Catherine stared at the growth blankly. I hate this damn hedge, she thought. I’ll cut the whole thing down. Both yards are open anyway, and what do I do in the backyard that anyone shouldn’t see?

The hedge was added to her mental list of things to change, which already numbered curtains, bedspread, clothes, and shoes.

It made her feel a little better, planning for the future.

When all this is over, she thought vaguely.

As she entered her back door, she heard the front doorbell ringing. No rest for the wicked, she told herself grumpily. What’ll I get this time? An interrogation? A chicken casserole?

In this disagreeable frame of mind, she swung open the front door. Finally, her caller was Randall.

7

“WANT TO GO out to the levee with me?”

“Okay,” Catherine said smoothly, dancing a little jig inside. “Come in while I straighten myself up.”

She had only seen him in the conservative suits he wore at the Gazette. He was wearing khakis and a T-shirt. He looked incredibly muscular for a newspaper editor. He looked wonderful.