Free Twilight by Kristen Heitzmann Page B

dense, some of it up to his shoulders. Cal turned up his collar and shoved his hands into his pockets. His pace was as brisk as the night, though he did not head anywhere in particular.
    Once inside the shadow of the trees, he slowed because he could see only a little space ahead. The slice of moon faded in and out of the clouds. To his right an owl hooted its throaty call, then whooshed from its perch after some prey it had heard in the fallen leaves. Whatever it was would never hear it coming.
    Cal circled back to the house but stopped mid-step, one boot grinding on the toothed edge of the metal stair as Mildred motioned through the window. He pushed open the lower-level side door obediently. He knew that expression.
    “You know, Mildred, Ray’s here to do whatever it is—.”
    “Ray does what Ray does. I need you to figure out the thump in my furnace.” Her face said she wouldn’t be talked out of it.
    “I don’t know the first thing about furnace thumps. I’ll call you a repairman.” He started for the phone.
    “Hmmph.”
    He stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Nothing.”
    “No way. That was a meaningful hmmph.”
    Mildred shrugged. “You with all your training and lecturing.”
    “I don’t lecture on furnace repair.” A detail that obviously meant nothing.
    “Keynote speaker at the city council banquet …”
    Cal started for the furnace. “Show me what it’s doing.” He pulled open the panel and studied the guts of the heater. Everything looked in order as far as he could tell. The pilot was lit, the parts were relatively clean. “So what’s the trouble?”
    “It thumps.”
    “So you said, but I don’t hear anything.”
    “It thumps when it blows.” To prove her word, the furnace drew a long breath through the intake vents and the blower came on with a thump.
    “Here it is. Whoever serviced your furnace missed the groove on the filter. Nothing serious.” He refitted the filter. “But you’d think a repairman …” He glanced up at Mildred. “Uh, did Ray change these out for you?”
    “Thanks for your time.”
    He stood. “Sure.” They clumped up the stairs and found Cissy on the couch, smiling broadly. In contrast to her sister, she was gladly talked out of anything—except Wednesday and Saturday morning vacuuming.
    “Well, you’re set.” Cal rubbed his hands.
    Mildred grunted.
    Cissy patted the pillow. “Why don’t you join us? I have chocolate on the stove and corn in the popper.”
    “No thanks, Cissy. Another time.”
    “I haven’t seen Laurie back.” Mildred spoke before he could make his escape.
    Cal turned. He’d expected as much. They’d lured him in, but he edged toward the door. “Nope.”
    “Did you scare her off?”
    “Mildred …”
    “Just as well. You’re not in any condition for entanglement, and from the looks of her, she’s not in any condition for you.”
    Cal stopped. “What does that mean?”
    “It’s written all over her. That woman’s been hurt, and she’s afraid.”
    Cal frowned. “She just doesn’t open up right away.”
    Mildred huffed. “Show’s what you know.”
    He knew better, but his fighting spirit flared anyway. “I know a lot.”
    “Maybe his vision’s clouded.”
    They both spun on Cissy, and she blushed a queer shade of purple and sank into the couch.
    “If his vision’s clouded, that’s all the more reason he shouldn’t get involved.”
    “I’m not involved. Laurie’s a friend from way back.” And even that was pushing it now.
    “That’s deadly.”
    “What?”
    “I said that’s deadly. Was she your first love?”
    Cal swallowed, then turned for the door, but not before he caught the knowing look Mildred and Cissy exchanged as he slipped from the room. After mounting the inside stairs, he crawled into his den to lick his wounds. He knew better than to take Mildred on. But he suspected she would have had her say whether he’d taken the bait or not.
    He was still morose when the phone rang an