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something?″
she asked.
    I was still in a fog. ‶ What?″
    ‶ Why′d you slow
down?″
    ‶ I don′t know.
There′s something about—″
    ‶ Uh-oh, you′re not getting
one of those funny feelings of yours, are you?″ She knew that meant
trouble.
    ‶ No. It′s just—″ I
groped for a plausible lie. ‶ I was wondering why Susan and Zack didn′t buy
a place closer to the village?″
    ‶ That′s easy. Money. The
farther from the village you are, the less the price. Also the less you can
charge your guests. But if you think about it, in the winter they′re
actually closer to Mt. Mansfield. If you′re a skier it all works out; and
maybe they can squeeze more out of those guests.″
    I nodded, concentrating on the road, but I
could feel her eyes on me—studying me—until she finally looked away. I knew my
lie hadn′t fooled her, but she chose not to mention it.
    Stowe′s a quaint little New England town,
but more commercial than some of the smaller villages. With an almost European
feel, its Victorian houses turned into storefronts, and shops with creaky
wooden floors, exude old-fashioned country charm. The town survives on tourism
in the summer and skiing in the winter, but there′s no denying the
surrounding scenery is beautiful no matter what the season.
    Although most of the shops were just opening,
the streets were already filled with tourists. We found a parking space in the
municipal lot.
    Strolling down the sidewalk, we paused in front
of a clothing shop, its carved doorway painted to look like gold leaf. Although
the summer wasn’t quite over, the energetically posed mannequins in the window
were already wearing $300 ski sweaters, looking like they might abandon the
village and hit the slopes at any moment. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, Maggie
dragged me inside to admire the designer wear.
    ‶ Isn′t there a bookstore
we can go to? Something at least marginally interesting?″
    She grabbed an Aran sweater from a table and
held it against my chest. ‶ You′d look terrific in this. It goes so well
with your eyes.″
    The tag caught my attention. ‶ Yeah,
and it would take me at least two paychecks just to buy it.″
    With a martyr′s sigh, she folded the
sweater and replaced it on the table, then looked around the place.
    ‶ Can I help you?″ a young
woman asked. College student—or one of the marginally employed locals, I
guessed.
    ‶ No, thanks. Just
looking,″ Maggie said.
    She nodded, and started to refold the sweater
Maggie had just put down on the counter.
    Maggie wandered down the aisle, and then
pointed toward the back of the store. Ted Palmer was admiring himself in a
three-sided mirror while Laura Ross looked on critically. He studied his
reflection from all angles, pulling on the sleeve of a green sport coat.
    ‶ Come on,″ Maggie
whispered. She grabbed my hand and tugged me after her, darting amongst the
clothing racks. Crouching low, we duck-walked along the aisle until we could
hear their conversation.
    ‶ Maggie, this is stupid.″
    ‶ No, it′s fun!″ She
motioned for me to keep still.
    ‶ I don′t know,″
Laura said. ‶ Maybe
you should try the blue one on again.″
    ‶ Or I could just take
both,″ Ted said.
    ‶ Do you believe him?″
Maggie mouthed.
    ‶ No. And what′s more, I
don′t care. I feel ridiculous. Can we get out of here?″
    ‶ May I help you?″
    A pair of polished Florshiems appeared next to
me and I looked up at a tall, elegantly dressed gentleman.
    ‶ Uh, I dropped something,″
I said, while Maggie smiled sweetly at him. I straightened, cleared my throat,
and helped Maggie to stand.
    ‶ Is there something I can show
you?″ the salesman persisted.
    I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw
Laura looking at me as though I′d just mooned the joint. ‶ Uh,
no. In fact, we were just leaving.″
    I grabbed a giggling Maggie by the arm and
steered her toward the entrance.
    ‶ Do you mind telling me what
that was all about?″ I asked once