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door wider. “Please, come in.”
    “Well, that’s better.” The woman shoved the overnight bag toward Edith as if she were a bellboy.
    Without questioning this, Edith took the bag and led the woman over to the long oak table that she used as a registration area, setting the bag down on the chair beside it. She wasn’t quite sure what to say now.
    “Come on,” said the old woman impatiently. “Cat got your tongue?”
    “No . . .” Edith studied the woman. Something about her reminded Edith of Ulysses, a bulldog that had belonged to her grandfather when she was a little girl. Maybe it was the square, flat face, or the loose jowls, or perhaps it was something in those intense, slightly beady eyes. But Edith had never quite trusted that dog.
    “Well, then . . . what’s the problem?”
    Still, Edith didn’t like to judge people on appearances. “I’m sorry, but people usually call ahead first, to get reservations, and I’m just caught a little off – ”
    “Look, if you’re booked up just tell me, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
    “No,” Edith said quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly. “We do actually have an available room.”
    “Fine,” snapped the woman. “I’ll take it.”
    “Right,” said Edith, still trying to grasp what was going on. She hated to be rude, but she really wanted to know why this woman had decided to come here of all places. It wasn’t as if they were exactly on the beaten path. Just the same, she slid the information form toward the woman. “You’ll just need to fill this out for me.”
    “You mind if I sit down?” demanded the woman. “My feet are killing me.”
    “No, not at all,” said Edith, removing the bag from the chair and offering the woman a seat. “I’m curious as to how you heard about us.”
    “My friend knew where you were located. It was his idea to drop me here. I s’pect he didn’t want me around during the holidays.” She made a disgusted sigh. “Nice friend, huh?”
    Just then the doorbell rang again. “Excuse me,” said Edith as she went to get it.
    It was Olive, and her face looked a bit stricken. “I need your help, Edith. Helen slipped on a wet spot on the floor in the kitchen, and she can’t get up.”
    “Oh, my goodness,” said Edith. “Is she badly hurt?”
    “I don’t think so. She told me not to call 911. But I’m not strong enough to get her up by myself. As you know, Helen is a rather bulky gal.”
    Edith looked back at the old woman. “If you’ll excuse me for just a few minutes, I need to – ”
    “I heard the whole stupid thing,” snapped the woman without even turning to see them. “I’ll be perfectly fine on my own. It’s not as if I’m not used to it, for Pete’s sake.”
    Olive’s brows lifted curiously at this.
    “I’ll be right back,” called Edith as she headed for the door. “Come on, Olive.”
    “Who is that ?” demanded Olive as soon as the door was shut behind them.
    “I’m not exactly sure,” said Edith. “Well, she’s a guest, of course, but I didn’t get her name yet.”
    “There you go,” said Olive as if making a point. “Letting a perfect stranger into your house, you don’t even know her name, on top of that she’s ruder than all get-out. . . . The next thing you know she’ll be making off with the family silver.”
    Edith laughed. “We don’t have much silver, Olive. And I seriously doubt that she could carry much with her. She looks like she’s about a hundred years old. Someone just dumped her here, poor thing.”
    “ Dumped her?”
    “Well, dropped her. She said it was a friend.”
    “Some friend.”
    “That’s what she said too.”
    They were in the church now, and the sounds of moaning made Edith hasten her pace. There in the small church kitchen, just like Olive had said, was Helen Johnson lying flat as a pancake with arms and legs sprawled out like a beached starfish.
    “Are you okay?” asked Edith as she knelt down beside her and attempted to remember what