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line.
    “Emma,” she began, “I feel so sorry about Ginny not being able to come back to work as soon as she planned. I talked to her a few minutes ago about part-time, but with Christmas and the art gallery and the day care at capacity anyway, I can’t juggle her three without going crazy.”
    “It’s not your fault, Donna,” I assured her. “Ginny had a commitment, but if she’s not feeling up to keeping it, we’ll manage.”
    I could hear children’s raised voices in the background. “Hold on, Emma,” Donna said. “Derek! Jamie! Stop that!” The shrill cries faded into muted truculence. “It doesn’t matter who started it,” Donna said away from the receiver. “Stopping it is what counts. Santa’s watching.”
    I smiled, remembering how often I’d used that line on Adam. I had to quit when he told me that if Santa was keeping an eye on him, who was watching the elves? That, he’d gone on to inform me, was probably why his toy tank had broken the day after the previous Christmas. The elves had gotten careless without proper “stuperfision.” My son had made his point.
    Donna sighed in my ear. “Actually, I’m hiring someone to help me, both here at the day care and at the art gallery. I have to keep the gallery open for longer hours in December.”
    “As I recall, you’ve had Evan Singer take up the slack from time to time,” I said. “Is he unavailable or is this somebody new?”
    “Both,” Donna replied. “Evan’s going to do some of it during the day because he works the 911 calls at night. Alison Lindahl is teaching at the college and she’ll be on break in another week. Do you remember her? She’s Linda Petersen Lindahl’s daughter.”
    I paused. Judging from Donna’s tone, she hadn’t yet heard about Larry Petersen’s death. “Yes, I just found out she’s at the college, but—”
    Donna had to interrupt me again as another melee erupted in the background. I waited at least a full minute while she sorted out Carlos, Destiny, and Esther. Or Hester. I couldn’t quite make out the third miscreant’s name. “I’ve got to go,” Donna said breathlessly. “By the way, Craig Laurentis has a new painting at the gallery. He dropped it off at our house last night. You might want to take a look. Talk to you later.”
    I hung up. I owned a Craig Laurentis, the only piece of art I’d ever bought and my most prized possession, except for the Madonna and Child statue that Tom had given me when we’d visited Leavenworth on the other side of Stevens Pass. I made a note about the new Laurentis for “Scene” just as Vida entered the newsroom with Amanda Hanson. Vida took off her coat and hat; Amanda came into my office.
    “Have you found my replacement yet?” she asked.
    “No, unfortunately.” Seeing that Amanda appeared apologetic, I hastened to forestall any guilt feelings. “It’s not your fault. By the way, speaking of luck, any news about the foster kids?”
    Amanda shook her head. “Walt and I didn’t expect any, what with the long weekend. Vida just told me about an unwed teenager who’s expecting a baby. Maybe that’s the route we’llhave to go. The only problem is that she doesn’t know who the girl is.”
    “If anyone can find out, it’s Vida,” I said. “Are you still checking with adoption agencies?”
    “We haven’t followed up lately,” she responded, her pretty face lacking its usual animation. “We’ve been focused on those three kids of Holly’s.” She lowered her voice. “It’s a touchy subject with Vida. I know the baby is her great-grandson. What do you think will happen with that one? Roger seems totally irresponsible. Immature, too.”
    I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “An understatement. He’s lucky to get out of that trailer park mess without being arrested. In fact, Milo went easy on him with only a fine for possession and driving without a license. The DUI charges were dropped.”
    Amanda leaned on the back of a visitor’s chair.