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He managed several good looks around the back room in the process, as Jo had expected, which seemed to satisfy him, despite the missing gore.
    Charlie filled his own bags with broken items from the front and swept up excess dirt before Jo came out and wet-mopped. Little by little the place returned to order. After a couple hours, Carrie leaned her own mop handle into a corner one last time and plopped down on a chair.
    “I think that’s it,” she said, with a tired sigh. “Jo’s Craft Corner is back in shape and ready for customers.”
    “Well, back in shape, anyway. Thanks, Carrie.” Jo turned to Charlie, who was returning from carrying out the last of the trash. “Thanks a whole lot, Charlie,” she called out. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
    Charlie shrugged, causing Jo’s first smile of the day. A young man of few words, she thought with amusement, though his eyes, and probably his imagination, had been busy.
    Carrie pulled herself out of her chair. “Time to get on home, I guess. There’s homework waiting to be done. See you tomorrow, Jo. I can open up if you like.”
    “No, don’t bother. You might as well sleep in.”
    “But—”
    “Oh, I’ll come down and open up, but I don’t expect to have much to do. Jo’s Craft Corner, I expect, will be quiet as a—forgive the word—morgue.”
     
    The next morning, Jo woke early, despite her tired body. She spent the extra time dawdling about the small house, sipping coffee as she sporadically watched the morning news shows, restless but enervated. Finally, she could put it off no more, and she showered and dressed, then drove glumly to the store, prepared for a day of dreary emptiness.
    Jo turned the corner at tenth and Main, and looked down the block to her store. A small crowd seemed to be gathered. More police? Reporters? Jo groaned softly. Shouldn’t that be over with by now? She pulled into an empty parking spot just beyond the group and had barely switched off her ignition when she heard her name spoken sharply.
    “Jo McAllister! You’re late!”
    Jo stared at the wrinkled face that appeared at the open passenger window of her car.
    “Huh?”
    “I said, you’re late! The sign on your door says you open up at ten. It’s now ten-oh-three.”
    “You’ve been waiting for me to open?”
    The tall, gray-haired woman pushed up the sleeves of her navy velour warm-up suit. “Our power walk winds up at nine-thirty. I told the girls all about your place, and we powered on over here, hoping you might let us in early. Instead, we had to cool our heels, waiting!”
    Jo looked around, feeling dazed. Nearly a dozen women milled about, actually champing at the bit waiting for her to open her store. It was unbelievable, or nearly so, since here, in fact, they were. Jo pulled out her keys and worked her way to the door through the gaggle of chattering women, apologizing for her lateness as she went. They poured into the store behind her and spread out, barely waiting for her to flick on the lights.
    Jo dropped her bag behind the counter and unlocked the cash register, still feeling somewhat out-of-body. The gray-haired woman came up to her.
    “Ina Mae Kepner,” she said, holding out her hand. Jo shook it, feeling the strength. Despite the age evident on her face, Ina Mae was clearly in great shape.
    “I figured you might need a little boost today, after what happened on Saturday.”
    “A boost?”
    “Why, yes. I can pretty well imagine what you must have been going through. There it was, your big day, and it ends up with police and ambulance people tramping all over your place.” Ina Mae glanced around. “Looks pretty much back to order, by the way. Must have been a job and a half.”
    “Yes,” Jo admitted. “As a matter of fact it was. I had help, though.”
    Ina Mae nodded. “Carrie Brenner. She’s a good woman. Coming in today?”
    “A little later.”
    “Good. I’d like her help picking out some yarn for a project I have in