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hear the end of it."
              "What was that you were saying a few minutes ago?"
              A dishcloth soared toward his head and he snatched it out of the air. "Now, now, my dear," he teased.
              Her laughter echoed in the room as she disappeared into the kitchen. Some ten minutes later she returned and a smile spread across her face as she glanced at the gleaming dining room table. "You finished polishing the table for me! You know, you keep that up and I just might hire you as a full-time butler, Mr. Windom."
              He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her ear. "No way, Mrs. Windom. You couldn't afford me. I'm very expensive. Of course, we could work out some kind of agreement for payment for services rendered..."
              "Maybe. Talk to me later this afternoon and we'll see what we can come up with," she suggested as she twisted in his arms and held her lips for his kiss.
              Thumping sounds from the stairwell interrupted them. Mary sighed, then walked to the hallway. Now what?
              Elizavon stood at the top of the stairs, two leather suitcases nearby. "Well, is Jack coming up to get my cases, or do I have to take them to the car myself?"
              "I'm on my way, Aunt Elizavon. I didn't want to rush you," he said. Grabbing a bag with each hand, he glanced toward her. "Do you have anything else?"
              "No, two bags is all I ever carry. If you'd paid attention when I got here, you'd know that."
              He nodded and motioned for her to precede him. The desire to give Elizavon a shove entered his mind but he banished the thought, although not very quickly. Considering his options, he decided he didn't want her to die on his property. With his luck, she'd come back as a shrieking ghost and keep them awake every single night.
              "What's so funny?" Mary whispered as he passed her.
              "Nothing." Once the bags were inside the trunk, he covered them with a quilt to protect them from damage. Elizavon waited on the porch, impatiently tapping her foot. "I'll be right back, Aunt Elizavon. I just want to lock up."
              "Don't be long; I'm ready to go. You had a full hour to get ready. If you wasted your time, that's not my problem. I don't like waiting, never have. If you're not back in five minutes, I'll drive this heap to the airport myself."
              He gritted his teeth and turned away. Mary stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting. "You didn't get into another argument, did you?"
              "No thanks to her. If she wasn't leaving today..."
              "I know sweetie. I'm sorry to have to put you through all this. Once we take her to the airport, she's gone."
              "Her plane better not be grounded."
              As they made the long drive into town. Mary glanced out the window, unwilling to break the strained silence. A light fog obscured much of the landscape, but she knew that beneath the thick cover of gray, the numerous bayous teemed with wildlife, even in the winter. Occasionally a long, slender branch of a Cypress tree rose out the fog like an emaciated wooden finger, beckoning unwary travelers into their treacherous lair. Spanish moss covered portions of the limbs like the fringe on an intricate fringed shawl, reminding her of the days when women wore shawls everywhere they went. Her silent reverie was interrupted when a bony finger dug into her shoulder.
              "Did you make sure the pilot would be ready to leave?" Elizavon asked.
              "Yes. I called the airport and had him paged. When I told him that you wanted to leave at noon, he said the plane was ready to go; all he had to do was file a flight