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let out a breath and softened her voice. “This place was Chad’s dream, as well as Ezra’s. I don’t want see it fail just because they’re both gone. Will you help me save it?”
    Vance turned away, his jaw twitching in repressed anger. Katie badly needed an ally, and if she’d just blown it—
    Finally, Vance exhaled loudly and turned back to face her. “It’ll be a hard sell. The artists don’t want to share space with low-end crafters.”
    Katie didn’t back down. “If they’re the only ones interested in renting space here, then there’s really no choice.”

Three
    “It’s kinda dreary in here,” Edie Silver said, glancing around Artisans Alley’s uninviting lobby. The large, carpeted foyer had been painted white a long time before, but was now a timeworn yellow, marred by scuff marks and the remnants of aged masking tape still clinging to its walls, which were pocked by old nail holes.
    “Can you make it look festive for Halloween?” Katie asked as her stomach grumbled. It was after six and she hadn’t even taken time for lunch.
    Edie’s gaze narrowed. “What’s your budget?”
    Katie sighed, thinking about the few bills in her wallet. “Twenty-five dollars.”
    Edie rolled her eyes. “Honey, you don’t want help—you want a miracle.”
    “Here’s the deal—you make this area look attractive and prove to me that crafters can draw in customers, and I’ll rent you space. Same terms as the rest of the artisans.”
    “Why the change of heart?” Edie asked, squinting up at her.
    “I’ll level with you. This place is going broke. It’s full of artists who know a lot about their particular craft but haven’t got a clue how to market their merchandise. Ezra’s strict rules enforcing booth uniformity didn’t inspire the artists to work on their displays either.”
    “A lot of them couldn’t hack it in real galleries, ya know,” Edie said snidely. “The commission of fifty or more percent is a killer. And of course, a lot of ’em are only here for the social aspect.”
    “So I gathered. The artists apparently aren’t motivated to pay their rent now—and will feel even more belligerent if I have to raise it just to keep the place afloat.”
    Edie’s frown twitched as she took another long look around. “I suppose I could get some orange and black crepe streamers at the dollar store. Maybe a couple of paper pumpkins. I might even have a line on some hay bales. . .” Her gaze traveled up and down the uneven walls, taking in the total space. “Yeah, I think I can do it.”
    “How soon?”
    Edie smiled. “How late are you willing to stay here tonight?”
    “As late as you need.”

    Katie awakened Saturday morning to find the gray clouds lower and darker than they’d been the day before. A light drizzle added to the gloom. Perfect retail weather, as Chad liked to say. She left a message for Josh on his voice mail. The insurance office was open a half day on Saturdays. She said she’d take the hours as vacation, and then headed straight for the local McDonald’s, where she snagged a cup of coffee and a Sausage Egg McMuffin.
    On her way out, Katie paused to read the banner headline from behind the glass front on the newspaper dispenser: McKINLAY MILL BUSINESSMAN MURDERED.
    Swell , she thought, feeding coins into the machine. She opened the door, grabbed a paper, nearly letting the spring door slam shut on her hand. Folding the paper, she tucked it under her arm before heading for her car.
    Minutes later, she arrived at Artisans Alley, noticing a slight figure standing by the side door, wrapped in a beige raincoat over dark slacks, a black kerchief tied tightly under her chin, and huddled under a bright red umbrella. Katie gathered her breakfast, newspaper, keys, and purse, and headed for the building.
    “Hello!” she called. The woman turned and Katie halted abruptly and found herself staring at the woman, whose left cheek was marked by the ugliest wart Katie had ever seen: