And it was… as far as Allan knew.

Nancy whipped her car into their little driveway and heaved a sigh. Allan wasn't home. Bank business had taken him to Cleveland, and he wouldn't be home for at least another day. She was, for the moment, safe.

She got out of the car as quietly as possible. The hour was early and the sun barely up. She didn't want the neighbors seeing her get in at such an hour, especially old Mrs. Hunter who lived next door and had her nose in everyone's business.

"My, my, such a lovely morning."

Nancy stopped dead in her tracks and wearily closed her eyes. She was trapped by the cackling voice. "Good morning Mrs. Hunter. How are you?"

"Fine," came the voice in a spiteful tone, "considering what date it is."

Tired, but near home, near bed, Nancy summoned up a smile and turned to see the old woman standing in her yard in her nightgown with a faded old housecoat buttoned up to her neck. She was wearing worn old house slippers and a floppy sun hat. "The date?"

"Yes, the date." She kneaded her wrinkled lips for a self-satisfied moment before continuing. "It's the twenty-fifth of the month."

Dumbly, Nancy nodded, not knowing what the old woman was so maliciously getting at.

Mrs. Hunter's face turned suddenly pious as she intoned. "Roger. Poor Roger."

Nancy caught on. "Oh, your husband."

Mournfully, she nodded. "Dead twelve years and three months today. Dropped dead of a heart attack in an Optimo cigar store in the loop. Man who owned the store said he bought a cigar and keeled over. Never said a word."

"My, what a shame."

The old woman nodded and looked off, seeming to remember her husband. "He was always coming home at late hours, too."