When she opened the door again, the shepherd leaped and lunged and did an instant replay of its snapping, snarling act. Camille hesitated, but then slowly carried the water closer. “This is ridiculous. Quit having such a cow. I’m not coming any closer than I have to-you can take that to the bank. But if you want water and food, you’re going to have to shut up and relax. If you don’t like me, don’t worry about it. Believe me, you won’t be here long.”

Snarl, snarl. Growl, growl. The dog was so intent on trying to attack her that it tipped over the water bowl. Camille eased back, perplexed. What now? She couldn’t free the dog-at least not without risking her life. She also couldn’t leave the dog without food or water-but she couldn’t seem to get water to it, and she didn’t have food. Temporarily she seemed to be stymied-and confounded that this could possibly be her problem.

She trudged up to the main house, yanked open the back screen door and yelled for Violet. No answer. She tried upstairs, downstairs, the basement, then the front yard. No sister in any of those places, either. Finally she found Vi in the back of the second greenhouse, up to her elbows in potting soil and roots and plants. She’d look like an earth mother if it weren’t for the five pounds of bangly gold bracelets and wildly tousled blond hair. The place was a jungle of earthy scents and humidity and plants that seemed to be reproducing in every direction.

“Cam!” Violet said delightedly when she spotted her. “You haven’t come out here before. I never thought I’d get you to see all the stuff I’ve been doing in the greenhouses-”