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It was very difficult to hold the pups and eat my cone, and I was passionately interested in doing the latter, so I sat on a bench to eat more carefully. The dogs sat in front of me, not bothering to pretend that they weren’t equally interested in my food.
    “Fine—you can split the very last part, but until then it’s mine. You hear me?”
    They clearly did; their ears were huge.
    Schuler’s ice cream was delicious; I knew that I would be back at Bick’s if only for this particular treat. I wolfed down the cone with embarrassing speed, breaking the last part in half for the shepherds, who ate their pieces with what seemed like gratitude, although I might have been projecting that emotion onto their long-nosed faces.
    Finally we made our way down the rest of the street, encountering two restaurants (Chinese and Italian), a tiny diner called Willoughby’s (whose window sported a sign alerting me, in faded blue lettering, that they were open for breakfast and lunch only), a bookstore, and a little second-run theater before we crossed over and came up the other side of Wentworth, back in the direction of the bluff and Camilla’s place. Here we passed a hair salon, a jewelry shop, a secondhand clothing store, a tiny food market, a Mexican restaurant, and a computer store. At themouth to one little cobbled alley was a sign that said “This Way to the Lakeshore!”
    I paused, then turned to a woman walking past. “Excuse me—if I go down here, I’ll get to Blue Lake?”
    She smiled. “Oh, yes. You’ll be right by the dock, and if you go around that you’ll get to the shore at the bottom of the bluff. You can climb up any number of stairways to get up to the houses. It’s a fun route to take.”
    “Thanks.” I watched her walk away and dart into the jewelry store.
    While I stood there, another woman appeared next to me. She was the woman I had seen talking to Mr. Bick, asking for the Farberware. She was youngish, with red hair and a dusting of freckles across her attractive face. She held the same little boy in her arms, and a slightly older little girl stood next to her, clutching the hem of her shirt. “Hello,” the woman said, her face earnest.
    “Hello.” Chalk another one up for friendly Blue Lake women.
    “I overheard you in Bick’s just now—saying you were living at Graham House.”
    “Oh? Yes, I’m staying there. I’m Lena,” I said, holding out a hand and shaking the tiny fingers of the shy boy who looked at me under his lashes. “Didn’t you buy some pots?”
    The woman laughed. “Yeah. They have to deliver them later, because I can’t hold them and these little stinkers. He’s Tommy, and I’m Lane. And this is Penny.” She hugged the little girl against her with her free arm.
    “Well, hi, everyone. Did you get some of that delicious ice cream?”
    “No, just the cookware and some diapers. Although someone talked me into a candy bar.”
    Penny held up small chocolate-covered hands and smiled proudly at me. Unlike her mother’s, her hair was more of a caramel color, and it shone in the gray light.
    “I like chocolate, too,” I said. “This seems to be a town for chocolate lovers.”
    Lane snorted. “Sugar lovers, you mean. Every other shop is selling fat on a stick.”
    “Well, you look great, so I guess you haven’t succumbed to the temptations of Blue Lake.”
    She smiled uncertainly. “You talk like a writer. Are you a writer, like Camilla Graham?”
    This surprised me. “Yes, that was my major. Right now I’m just working as Camilla’s assistant.”
    “Ah. I worked at the bakery over there until Tommy came along; then my husband and me figured I should stay home with the kids.”
    “That’s nice. I’m sure your children are glad to have you with them.”
    “I wish I’d known Mrs. Graham needed an assistant. Tommy’s getting older now. Maybe I would have applied—mostly for a way to get to see inside that awesome house!”
    This was surprising, not because Graham