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Dimity’s question. Bree and Jack were gracious enough to acknowledge my lack of computer skills by resorting to quaint, old-fashioned methods of communication, none of which required the use of a keyboard. “They’ve made it to Uluru, but I don’t think Bree will ever love the place as much as Jack does. All she wrote was: ‘The flies are horrible and the heat is worse.’”
    Oh, well. They don’t have to agree on everything. Few couples do. And Bree adored Sydney and the Great Barrier Reef. You don’t suppose Jack will persuade her to stay in Australia, do you?
    â€œI’ll never forgive him if he does,” I said fervently. “Finch needs Bree’s energy, not to mention her sense of humor. What it doesn’t need is another empty house. Two is already too many.”
    Three, if you count Pussywillows.
    â€œThanks for the reminder,” I said gloomily. “But you’re right. When Amelia takes her rightful place as the mistress of Fairworth House, Pussywillows will be empty, too. And Finch will be one step closer to becoming a ghost town.”
    Are there still no prospective buyers on the horizon?
    â€œI’m sure there are plenty of prospective buyers on the horizon,” I said, “but they don’t seem to come any closer. It’s weird, Dimity. It’s as if Finch is surrounded by a home-buyer-repelling force field.”
    I suspect that something other than a force field may be to blame for the situation. The cottages may be overpriced. They may have structural defects of which we are unaware.
    â€œNone of them have structural defects,” I said swiftly, though honesty compelled me to add, “At least, they don’t have any
visible
defects.”
    Exactly so. They could have dry rot or rising damp or cracked foundations or an infestation of deathwatch beetles or any number of invisible defects that would keep a rational home buyer at bay.
    â€œImpossible,” I said. “Jack spent a small fortune refurbishing Ivy Cottage and Amelia wouldn’t have bought Pussywillows in the first place if it had been a wreck. And if Rose Cottage was on the verge of collapse, I would have heard about it. Someone in the village would have told me.”
    Are you certain? You’ve been rather busy for the past four months. You may not be as up-to-date with village news as you once were.
    Aunt Dimity’s comment hit me like a bucket of cold water because I knew as soon as I read it that it was true. Since Bess’s birth, I’d been too preoccupied to dive into the stream of gossip that flowed ceaselessly through the village. For all I knew, Rose Cottage might be filled to the rafters with dry rot, rising damp, and deathwatch beetles.
    While I stared in dismay at the journal, Aunt Dimity’s handwriting continued.
    Then again, the cottages may not be the problem. Finch may be too small and too isolated for some people. Families with children, for example, might prefer to live closer to a school or to a hospital or to both.
    â€œBill and I have children,” I said resentfully, “and we don’t feel the need to live near a school or a hospital.”
    Your children have never had a medical emergency, have they, my dear?
    â€œNo,” I conceded grudgingly. “I’m the only member of my family who’s seen the inside of an emergency room, but that’s beside the point.” I could feel my temper flare at the mere thought of outsiders belittling my community. “The point is: People have been raising children in Finch since the year dot and they’ve gotten along perfectly well without a hospital on their doorstep. And the schools in Upper Deeping are practically next door. What kind of parents would begrudge spending a few extra minutes in a car if it meant that they could raise their children in a safe and healthy environment?”
    You needn’t convince me, Lori. I was born and raised in Finch