bright shade of pink.
"Oh," he said, nodding, "I know what you're
talking about. There was a knothole in the wood that
fell through a while ago."
"A knothole?"
"Yeah," he said. "I just noticed it myself the
other day. You think I have nothing better to do than
go up there and peep down at you and your
boyfriend?"
"I hope you have better things to do," I said,
"and if you tell me you didn't do it and you don't do it,
I'll believe you," I said.
"I just forgot to fix it, that's all," he said. "I was
going to plug it up with some wood glue the other
day," he added, looking grateful for being allowed to
come up with an explanation. "I just got too involved
in what I was doing and forgot."
"Okay," I said.
"I can't believe you would accuse me of such a
thing," he continued, now on the offensive.
"Why shouldn't I think it, Cary? You treat me
as if I'm some sort of fallen woman now, just because
I'm seeing Robert, who, I might add, you have no
good reason not to like. He's done nothing to you." "He and his family are part of the resort
business, bringing those tourists up here," Cary said
bitterly.
"You know we need the tourists, and that's not
you talking anyway. It's Grandma Olivia. Who would
buy Daddy's lobsters if there were no tourists, and
who would buy our cranberries if people didn't want