Hannah Gruen, the housekeeper who had been looking after the Drews for the fifteen years since Carson’s wife had died, was perched on the side of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“As if I’d gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel.” Freeing an arm from under the covers, Nancy peered down at her bruised shoulder. “Now I know how football players feel after a game.”

Hannah got up and raised the blinds even higher. “At least you’re in one piece.”

“How’s Dad?” Nancy asked, sitting up and wincing. She had hit the ground harder than she thought the night before.

“In better shape than you are-physically, anyhow. He left for the office at seven.”

Tossing the blanket aside, Nancy got up. She glanced at the clock and gasped. “Hannah, it’s after eleven! I should have been up hours ago.”

Hannah folded her arms in her I-want-no-nonsense-out-of-you stance. “You needed your rest. I wouldn’t have bothered you at all, except that I have a message for you and didn’t want to wait any longer to give it to you.”

“What’s the message?” Nancy grabbed her robe.

“Miss Granger called from the hospital.”

“What did she say?”

“Just that you were to phone her as soon as you got up, and by noon at the latest.”

“What time did she call?”

“About nine-thirty. I told her you two were lucky you weren’t toasted.”

Nancy had no answer to that, because Hannah was right. They had been just far enough from the Ford to escape the ball of flame.

Ann had landed even harder than Nancy. She thought she might have cracked a rib, so Carson had insisted that she go to the nearest emergency room. The doctors had shipped her off to X ray and made it clear they wanted her kept overnight.

Carson had been knocked flat by the force of the blast. But he had been lucky because he escaped all injury. A shard of flying glass had sliced through his coat sleeve but missed his arm. All things considered, the three had been extremely fortunate.