She nodded. “Just the one night.”

“C’mon, I want to introduce you.” Zach opened her door and led her from the car.

As far as Courtney was concerned, the men were bad clones of one another. Grant Olson, identified as such by the name badge he wore, emblazoned by the red and gold logo of Valley Realty, was slightly taller than the lawyer. Both were clad in the same sort of tan-grey suit, the color of which changed in shadow or direct sunlight.

“Gentlemen, this is my girlfriend, Courtney Bauman.”

Courtney winced at the mention of her as “girlfriend” although no more formal descriptor existed. She thought the men bristled a bit too, both glancing down at her stomach when Zach said the word. “Hello,” she offered.

“Grant Olson, but you probably already know that.” He tapped his name badge with pale, waxen fingers.

“Please to meet you, Miss Bauman.” The other man reached out his hand, his fingers painted with the same strange translucence as Olson’s. “My name is Joe Weedeman. Mr. Galen’s lawyer.” He blinked. “The deceased Mr. Galen, that is. Zach’s grandfather.”

She took his hand, surprised that it was warm. Both looked like they wore a good layer of frost.

“They were just telling me about the farm, Court.”

Olson stepped closer to Courtney, gently turning her to face the road across from the house. “I was just about to explain the legend of the hollow field,” he said, pointing toward the empty space just beyond the road.

“All I see is a bunch of dirt,” Courtney said.

The two local men exchanged a quick glance. They smiled. “Exactly the point, miss,” Weedeman said. “But it’s hungry dirt.”

“I don’t like those men,” Courtney said as she undressed. “And I hate these damn pregnancy clothes. This stupid elastic.” She snapped the navy band at the top of her jeans.