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wrapped P.C. around my shoulders. She chain-sawed in my ear as I started to clamber to the ground. Joanne was already there when I dropped the last few feet, P.C. barely acknowledging the landing. I unwound her tail from one ear, then lifted her off my shoulders and deposited her on the ground. Enough of this cat.
    Joanne stood, not saying anything, but she never engaged in polite chatter. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t think of any of my usual smart remarks. I turned to the tree, lifted my leg and braced a foot against it to brush off the bark and dirt that had lodged in the unruly fringes of my shorts.
    Joanne put a hand on my raised thigh, firmly this time.
    I saw what looked like Alex and Danny across the lawn. Joanne pushed up the fringe of my shorts, her hand higher on my thigh, then she stopped.
    “It’s a bad scar, isn’t it?” she asked, tracing the outlines of the broken flesh with her fingers.
    “Bad enough to up my score on the Butch-o-meter a few notches,” I replied.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said, with a somberness and intensity that hit me harder than her desire had. “It should have been me.”
    “Naw, you’ve already got one. Don’t horde gunshot wounds, Joanne, baby,” I answered lightly, backing away from her seriousness.
    Alex, Danny, and Elly were crossing the lawn toward us. They were probably close enough to see Joanne’s hand on my thigh. Joanne glanced in their direction, deliberately leaving her hand where it was, too gallant to tarnish her apology by jerking it away.
    Danny cleared her throat very loudly, thinking perhaps we hadn’t seen them.
    “Are we interrupting something?” Alex called out jauntily. She probably knew Joanne well enough to know we couldn’t be doing what it looked like we were doing. Not to her face.
    “Comparing bullet holes,” I explained to calm any prurient minds.
    “Let me take a look,” Danny said as she came closer. “The only time I saw it, it was all bloody.”
    I pulled up my pants leg, fully exposing the scar. Only then did Joanne drop her hand.
    “Gather ’round all ye clowns,” I barkered. “Five cents a gander.”
    “I’m not sure what to make of this, but I now know two women with gunshot scars,” Alex said. She put an arm around Joanne and rubbed the spot below her shoulder where her scar was.
    “Probably means you hang around with the wrong type of women,” I replied as I rolled my shorts back down.
    “In your case,” Danny couldn’t resist adding.
    “Can you show us around?” Elly asked me, changing the subject.
    My stomach grumbled. It wanted to show some breakfast around.
    “Sure. If we can start at the kitchen,” was my reply.
    “Haven’t you eaten yet?” Danny inquired. She was a morning person and usually up and breakfasted by eight even on weekends.
    “No, I’ve been busy rescuing cats.”
    “Then we’ll catch you later. I want to be outside on a day like today,” she said, making the decision for the group.
    We waved good-bye. They headed for some of the trails in the woods, each couple arm in arm. I, with my grumbling stomach in hand, went kitchen-ward.
    True to her word, Rachel had saved the beignet. I poured myself a large cup of coffee. It was too hot for the now warm day, but I needed the caffeine. Today would be a long day. I couldn’t expect to get to bed before three or four in the morning. Somewhere from the far side of the house, I heard the sound of a harpsichord—Emma, from the proficiency of it.
    I washed the sugar off my hands and, taking my cup of coffee, went in search of the music. I quietly let myself into the music room.
    It was Emma, playing what sounded like Bach, though I couldn’t name the piece. I sat down in a far corner, not wanting to disturb her.
    She finished the toccata, then, without looking in my direction, said, “I’ve done it better, don’t you think?”
    “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I said, sorry to have been so noticeable in my entrance.
    “No