But this was July and it didn’t get dark till late. And after dark the lights of her house would show. Jamieson might have to make another trip-for groceries, perhaps. If he was sitting at the computer, he would have his back to the window and the road.īut he would have to know before long. When she turned her head there was something like a bright flash-of inquiry, of hopefulness-that made Carla shrink back. Jamieson would look negotiating this road. Carla got a glimpse of a tanned arm bare to the shoulder, hair bleached a lighter color than it had been before, more white now than silver-blond, and an expression that was both exasperated and amused at her own exasperation-just the way Mrs. Jamieson turned her head once, quickly-she had all she could do to maneuver her car through the ruts and puddles the rain had made in the gravel-but she didn’t lift a hand off the wheel to wave, she didn’t spot Carla. If it was somebody coming to see them, the car would be slowing down by now. Jamieson would have to drive by, her place being half a mile farther along than Clark and Carla’s. From the barn door-but far enough inside that she could not easily be seen-she watched the road where Mrs. Jamieson-Sylvia-home from her holiday in Greece. Carla heard the car coming before it topped the little rise in the road that around here they called a hill.
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