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management skills. She bit her thumbnail and brooded until she remembered that Jinny Peterson was expecting a phone call and Jinny always cheered her up.
    She keyed in the GoodJobs! phone number and was delighted to finally hear a human voice.
    “Thank you for returning my call, Quill.”
    “I’m always glad to talk to you, Jinny. The agency’s helped us through some tight times. Dina said you were checking on Melissa Smith.”
    “Is she doing well?” Jinny, one of the younger members of the prolific Peterson clan, was related by blood or marriage to half the indigenous population of Hemlock Falls. She’d gotten a master’s in social work from Ithaca College and was the logical choice to take over the directorship of GoodJobs!, the new Tompkins County service to help the unemployed.
    The program had been a godsend; the county picked up half the wages for those employers who agreed to take what the Hemlock Falls Gazette rudely referred to as the “hard-core unemployed.” Doreen had taken on two maids for the housekeeping staff, and Meg had agreed to take Melissa on as a dishwasher, a position normally reserved for recent graduates of the Cornell School of Hotel Administration who wanted to work their way up to a responsible position in the kitchen.
    “I think Melissa’s working out very well. But to tell you the truth, I’ve been so occupied with other things, I haven’t really had a chance to sit down and talk with her.”
    “You have been through the mill,” Jinny said. “But everyone’s been rooting for you. How did the meeting with the bank go this morning?”
    Quill was too used to the speed and efficiency of village gossip to take offense at this intrusiveness. “Quite well. Lydia Kingsfield’s coming in with her camera crew tomorrow. She plans to get some preliminary background for the Christmas show.”
    “It’ll be such fun to see it!”
    “It won’t air until next year at this time,” Quill warned her. “But we’re looking forward to it, too. From what I gather, there’s going to be a feature on the Inn in that month’s issue of L’Aperitif .”
    “Exciting times,” Jinny said. “And it sounds as if you can take on a couple more of my clients.”
    “I’ll do my best. But I haven’t kept up with the ones we’ve taken on. Let me go talk to Melissa and see how she’s doing. I’ll call you back.”
    “I’ll see you at the Chamber meeting, won’t I? It can wait until then.” Jinny rang off with renewed good wishes for the Kingsfield project.
    Quill sank back with a sigh of contentment and looked at her desk. It was free of the stacks of invoices, overdue notices, reminders, red slips, and overdraft notices that had haunted her for months. She’d dropped the backed-up bills in the mail as soon as she’d deposited the Kingsfields’ check.
    She’d go to the kitchen and talk to Melissa. And then it would be time to celebrate the Inn’s salvation with a good lunch, a glass of the best red their sommelier, Peter Hairston, could recommend, and a large dish of Meg’s Christmas mousse.
    Meg looked up from her clipboard as Quill came through the swinging doors into the kitchen and said, “Hey.”
    “Hey,” Quill responded. “Anything for lunch? And after lunch, is there any of your mousse? I’m in the mood to celebrate.”
    “Give me a second. I’m taking tomorrow’s lamb off the menu.”
    “Why?”
    “Because Loathsome Lydia loves it.”
    Quill sighed.
    There were two places in Meg’s kitchen where Quill liked to sit. The first was a stool at the birch-topped prep table, where Meg stood now with her clipboard. The second was the rocking chair by the cobblestone fireplace, where Quill’s dog Max lay curled blissfully asleep. She settled into the chair by the fireplace, reflecting that there were only two places to sit. Not for the first time, Quill thought that the kitchen could do with a bit of reorganization. The one time she’d mentioned it to Meg, she’d bounced two