Free Fall from Grace by L. R. Wright Page B

recorder. Annabelle realized, as she got closer, that the difference between them was that this young woman knew she was out of her element, and it was making her furious.
    â€œHere’s the lady from the paper,” said Herman. “This is my wife,” he said proudly to the reporter.
    Annabelle smiled. “Would you like some iced tea?”
    The girl shook her head. Her face was flushed. “No, thank you,” she said. She was an attractive person, thought Annabelle. She had long, wavy hair and a heart-shaped face and a figure that was both curvaceous and sturdy.
    â€œHow come you didn’t bring a camera?” said Herman.
    â€œI’m a reporter,” said the girl stiffly. “Not a photographer.”
    Annabelle sat down in a lawn chair near the house. She didn’t move it into the shade of the trees because she didn’t want to be that close to the animals.
    â€œYou can’t have a story like this and not have pictures,” Herman was protesting.
    â€œIf my editor wants pictures he’ll send a photographer later.”
    â€œOkay, fine,” said Herman. “Now here’s your raccoons,” he said, leading the way. “You saw your squirrels, you saw your foxes, you saw your monkeys, now here’s your raccoons.”
    He’d changed his clothes, Annabelle noticed. He’d put on a white shirt over his undershirt, and a belt was holding up his jeans, instead of suspenders.
    â€œHave you had a lot of people stop by?” said the reporter, clutching her notebook to her chest.
    Herman hesitated. “Not yet. Not enough people know about it yet. I gotta get more signs put up. Your piece in the paper’ll help a lot.”
    â€œWhat’ll happen to them in the fall?” said the girl, staring at the raccoons.
    â€œWhaddya mean, what’ll happen to them? I put more stuff in their cages,” said Herman, “so they can make nests, like, keep themselves warm.”
    â€œHow much do you know about animals, anyway?” said the reporter, and Annabelle heard the dismay in her voice, even if Herman didn’t.
    â€œNot much,” he said stoutly. “I’m learning from the wildlife guy. He tells me what I gotta do, and I do it.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” said the reporter, shaking her head. “I mean, you can’t possibly be earning your living doing this.”
    â€œNever said I was,” said Herman. “Carpentry’s my livelihood.”
    â€œThen why?” said the young woman.
    My goodness, thought Annabelle, suddenly pensive. She’s practically in tears.
    â€œWhy what?” said Herman, exasperated.
    â€œWhy cage up these animals?” the girl shouted.
    â€œWell how the hell,” Herman shouted back, “how the hell can I have a goddamn zoo without goddamn cages?”
    They stared at each other.
    The girl snapped her notebook closed. “I’ve got all I need, thank you,” she said, and marched off toward her car.
    Herman glanced at Annabelle, who quickly wiped from her face the pity she’d felt there.

Chapter 10
    C ASSANDRA HELPED THE Ferguson girls load their books into two plastic grocery bags and watched as they went off up the street, the younger one skipping. Then she went to the staff room, which she shared with several part-time volunteers.
    It was reached through a doorway behind the library’s U-shaped counter, next to the shelves of books being kept on reserve. It contained a couch, an armchair, a round kitchen table with three straight-backed chairs, two coffee tables and a stand-up lamp. The floor was covered with strong but ugly carpeting that was the color of cement.
    Cassandra looked around glumly, and made a half-hearted attempt to gather up armloads of Publishers Weekly , Quill and Quire and B.C. Book World . But there were newspapers everywhere, too, and the sink was cluttered with dirty glasses and coffee mugs, and the small