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When Maeve entered the house with her groceries, she found the fire blazing higher than before. If the door hadn’t been locked from the inside, she would’ve thought someone had kindled it during her absence.

Ghost shot out from under the couch as Maeve kicked the door shut behind her. He zipped across the space in a blur of gray before disappearing under a shelf on the opposite wall.

“What’s got you spooked?” she asked. “Surely it isn’t living in a house where random people come and go as they please?”

Ghost said nothing.

Maeve laughed. She couldn’t blame the cat for being so skittish. To live here was to live perpetually on edge.

Still, she shouldn’t complain too much. The very walls were lined with precious gems. Who knew how many more lay in wait?

She glanced at the raging fire and let out a frustrated sigh. “It may be tomorrow before you cool down enough for me to go rooting around in there.” And she had to work at the bookstore from 9:00 to 3:30.

Exploring the space early the next morning would turn her black. Since Maeve preferred to shower at night, she would hold off on her treasure hunt until that afternoon. “What’s one more day when I have a lifetime left to live here?”

The next morning, she arrived at Mapletown Books at 8:50 a.m. Andrea greeted her as she entered, “Hello! Happy first day!”

“Thanks. Where do you want me?”

Andrea pointed toward a shelf in the back fronted by several boxes. “We just got a new shipment of books in last night. If you could arrange them on these shelves by author name, I’d appreciate you.”

“Consider it done.” Maeve placed her purse behind the register and set about sorting the novels.

Thirty minutes later, a group of three ladies came into the store. Andrea joined them in a spirited discussion of the Autumn Block Party.

The big woman in the red hat said, “I hear Dale Roscoe will be there.”

A lady in a yellow dress gasped. “I’m surprised he’s getting out of the house! I haven’t seen him in town since his wife died.”

The skinny girl in a light-blue sweater added, “The Café Couture coffee truck will be parked on the square. I’ve waited all year for their maple pumpkin donut and latte.”

Andrea whined, “It’s a shame I can’t stay awake late enough to keep the shop open for the event.” Turning to face the back of the store, she sweetly hinted, “Unless Maeve wants to work that evening?”

Maeve viewed the ladies with a trapped expression. She didn’t love the idea of working alone at night, but she couldn’t very well refuse a request on her first day. Tentatively, she asked, “When is it?”

“Tomorrow night from 7 to 9,” Andrea answered. “Mallory would help out, but it’s a school night, so I can’t ask her. I’d love for the store to be able to participate. I’d drop off refreshments beforehand so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything but working the register. Could you do that for me?” Andrea regarded her with pleading eyes.

Maeve meant it as a desperate question when she answered, “How can I say no?”

The women clapped in approval.

Andrea squealed. “I knew I made the right decision in hiring you!”

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. Andrea gave Maeve a crash course in operating the register. She informed her of their return policy and what to do in case of various emergencies. At 3:30, Maeve got to meet young Mallory as she entered for her shift.

With her long, straight brown hair and dimpled cheeks, Mallory appeared to be a wholesome, sweet young lady. “So nice to meet you, Ms. Maeve. I’m glad Andrea found someone to help her out.”

“Nice to meet you, Mallory.” Impatient to get home to her hearth, Maeve gathered her things and excused herself.

As she stepped into the living room, she was relieved to find it as cold as she’d left it. She quickly changed into black clothing for the task at hand. Glancing at Ghost, she noted his relaxed demeanor and took comfort in it. If anyone were in the house, he would be as tense as a taut arrow. She should be safe to focus her attention on the fireplace.

Shining a flashlight about the dark space, she recited the clue aloud, “Not a candle, but a flame. Santa’s passage is the same.” After a thorough check of the ash and the floor, she reasoned, “It’s probably along the inner wall somewhere.” She stood for a closer look.

On the left side of the brick about five feet up, she spied something projecting slightly from the wall. It appeared to be a blackened handle. She tugged it forward, and the attached brick surprised her by budging.

Excited, she set the flashlight on the floor, tilting it to aim it towards the brick. Then she pulled it the rest of the way out, catching it in both hands as it cleared the wall. Soot fluffed through the air, causing her to turn her head and cough.

She brought the brick out onto the hearth. Setting it down, she discovered another handle on the top. “It must be hollow,” she mused.

Sure enough, she pulled the top up to reveal another velvety black bag inside the faux brick. “Someone was a master of architectural disguise.”

Unlike the other hiding spots, this one contained no paper clue. “Must be the last of his stash,” she assumed.

With trembling fingers, she loosened the drawstring on the bag. The light glinted off the contents, giving her the confidence to pour them into her hand without further examination. Onto her palm tumbled four sparkling diamonds.

She released an involuntary breath. Words failed her, as did thoughts. She just stared in awe at financial security.

After quite some time, her senses returned. She quickly slid the diamonds back into the black bag. Someone had gotten into her house to start the fire yesterday. The lady at the grocery store had revealed that multiple people believed a large amount of money to be hidden in the home. Yes, these people had already done a thorough search of the place before she moved in, but what if some of them decided to try again? The local cops would do nothing to stop them. Maeve could only rely on herself to defend her property, which now included these precious stones.

She couldn’t risk leaving them here, even tucked away inside the wall, the attic chest, and the fireplace. She should keep them on her person at all times. That’d be easy enough, since all of her pants had pockets. They might be a little lumpy, but she’d only have to wear them around until she secured a safe deposit box at a bank in a neighboring town. She didn’t trust this one.

“So you’re saying someone broke into your house just to start a fire in the fireplace?” the officer asked, not bothering to veil his skepticism.

Maeve bit her tongue. She couldn’t mention the presence of emeralds and rubies, because she didn’t know whom she could trust in this town just yet. At the risk of sounding loony, she answered, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The officer shut his little notebook. “Can you think of anyone who might do such a thing?”

“Well, there is ole Larry from across the cornfield. Seems he’s always lingering near my house.”

The officer’s brow furrowed. “Larry Huskin?”

Maeve snorted. “Appropriate surname.”

Crossing his arms, he informed her, “Larry’s a good man. Always ready to help a neighbor out. Do you have a problem with him I should know about?”

Sensing she had offended him, she hesitated to tell the truth. Finally, she mumbled, “I’m just not used to people showing up unexpectedly and putting pumpkins all over my porch.”

A smile spread across the officer’s face. “Ah, he gourded you.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Means he likes you.” He walked toward the door. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“Wait! You’re not gonna talk to Larry about breaking in my house?”

He shrugged. “You have no proof it was him. I’m certainly not going to accuse one of the nicest men I know of breaking and entering.”

“You forgot arson,” Maeve added.

“If he did set the fire, he intended no harm. Whoever did it must’ve wanted you to stay warm.” He paused on the threshold and held her with his stare. “Mapletown is a friendly community, Ms. Walton. I suggest you accept our hospitality.”

Her jaw dropped as he shut the door. To no one but Ghost, she said, “Unbelievable!”

As the cruiser pulled away, Maeve flipped not only the lock on the doorknob, but also the deadbolt. She considered pulling a heavy piece of furniture in front of the door but decided to wait until right before bedtime.

She came to stand directly in front of the fiery hearth. “I can’t very well go treasure hunting now.” Not wanting to waste the firewood, she would wait for the flames to die out and the area to cool down before she went poking around in there.

“It’s just as well. I need to go grocery shopping, anyway.” Glancing at Ghost, she said, “Can’t have you eating tuna every night, now can I? I’ll see what kind of cat food looks good.”

Ghost mewled his tentative approval.

Maeve headed toward the nearest grocery store about ten minutes away. Pumpkins, hay bales, and mums lined the exterior of the building. Inside the door, she grabbed a cart and began shopping.

Every time she looked up from her task, she noticed a different shopper watching her. Not one person in the place minded the unspoken code of keeping your eyes to yourself while looking for groceries. Their gazes weren’t necessarily unfriendly. They appeared more curious than anything.

Even the cashier studied her as she placed her items on the conveyor belt. When the woman picked up the bag of cat food to scan, she smiled and said, “You must’ve met Ghost.”

Maeve’s eyes shot up in surprise. “How do you know where I live?”

With a smirk, the cashier, whose nametag read ‘Sharon’, replied, “Everyone knows where you live. You’re the brave soul who bought the Jamison house.”

Maeve narrowed her eyes. “Why do you word it like that?”

Sharon stared at her for several seconds, as if gauging how much she should say. “Several reasons.”

Maeve lifted her brows to ask for more information.

Sharon allowed a smile to form on her face. “It’s quite the project, isn’t it?”

Was that really all she meant? “I’ll admit, I’ve done a ton of work on it already, and there’s still so much to do.”

“And then there’s the stories.”

Maeve cocked her head. “What stories?”

“Old Man Jamison was rumored to be a very rich person living like he was middle class. Everyone says that he hid money all over his house because he didn’t trust banks.”

Maeve blinked to hide her surprise. “Well did anyone look in there after he died?”

“Oh, a lot of folks did. No one found anything, though. He must’ve hid it real good.”

Something about that didn’t seem right. “Did he not have any relatives to leave his money to?”

Sharon shook her head. “He drove them all away with his growing paranoia. He thought someone was breaking into his house every day. He accused all his relatives, plus just about everyone in town. They all withdrew from him.”

Maeve felt a chill course her spine. “That’s sad.”

“Sad, indeed.”

Sharon scanned the last item and announced, “That’ll be $42.85.”

Maeve handed over her card. “Did he ever find out who was breaking into his house?”

Sharon gave her an incredulous look. “No one was. He imagined it.”

Maeve paled at the revelation.

Sharon handed her the receipt. Taking note of the shift in her complexion, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.” She gathered her wits, as well as her groceries, and headed for her car.

Back at home, Maeve puzzled aloud over the riddle from the box, “Above the beams, beneath the sky, the puzzle holder keeps me dry.” Turning to look at Ghost, she questioned, “What’s above the ceiling but beneath the sky?”

The cat answered with the one word he knew.

Maeve laughed. “I suppose ‘meow’ could be above the ceiling, if you were up in a tree, but technically, would you be in the sky? Where does regular air stop and sky begin?”

Ghost meowed with insistence, as if he possessed the answer and was frustrated he couldn’t relay it to her in English.

Maeve lifted her gaze to the beams crossing far above her head. “Above the beams. The attic?”

Ghost jumped down from the arm of the chair. In a flash, he zipped across the room and out of sight.

Maeve let out a sigh. “I guess this means I have to go up there alone.” She cringed at the thought of digging through the cobweb-riddled space. “Better put on gloves in case of spider bites.”

She had just begun sliding her left hand into a glove when a thud outside jarred her. A thump followed, this one louder than the first.

She crept to the curtain to peer out at the source. Larry had backed his truck up against her stoop and was unloading a mound of pumpkins!

Pulling open the door, she stuck her head out and asked, “What are you doing?”

He barely glanced up at her as he continued gourding her porch. “Making the place look more festive. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Maeve didn’t know what to say. She liked pumpkins, but she didn’t want to be stuck with discarding their carcasses once they began to rot away in a few weeks.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back and get them after they’re past their prime. I need the seeds, anyway.”

Well, then. She supposed she had no objection. It just seemed more than a little weird for a neighbor she’d only met once to come and decorate her porch for autumn. But she didn’t want to point this out and risk upsetting him. Maeve generally played along with whatever odd thing a stranger did in order to escape their presence unharmed. “Okay. Well, thank you.”

Larry had lined up orange, white, green, and blue-gray pumpkins down either side of the entryway before he spoke again. “I’ll be seeing you.” He saluted her, then hopped in his truck and drove down the road. He eventually turned left onto a narrow dirt road leading beside the cornfield.

“What a strange man,” she mused.

A cold gust blew through, causing her hair to slap her cheeks. At the same time, her mind whispered a thought that chilled her insides, “He knows.”

She rubbed her arms to calm the goosebumps. “Where did that idea come from?” She shuddered once before going back inside.

Putting the thought from her mind, she said, “Now, where was I?” She spied the waiting gloves and moved forward to ease her hands into them. With significant amount of dread, she approached the pull string for the attic and tugged the ladder down to the floor. Staring up at the dust sparkling in the filtered rays of sun, she said, “Here goes nothing.”

The ladder creaked with each step. Maeve was not a large woman by any means, but the aged rungs would’ve protested under the weight of even the cat.

As the attic came into view, she gasped, “It’s so much neater in here than I thought it’d be.” Items were spaced out to allow walking room between them. Nothing was heaped upon anything else. “Maybe I won’t have to dig through spiders, after all.”

Maeve let out an aggressive sneeze as dust tickled her nose. “Probably should’ve worn a mask.”

In three leaps, Ghost ascended. He raced over to Maeve’s legs, rubbed around them in a semicircle, then caught sight of a mouse in the corner and vanished as quickly as he’d arrived.

“You keep those rodents busy while I look for my next clue.” She stepped carefully around the room, mumbling, “The treasure holder keeps me dry. What looks like it would hold treasure?” Somehow she doubted what she sought would be tucked inside an ordinary cardboard box.

One row away from the wall, she spotted a wooden chest about the size of a microwave. “Bingo.” She expected it to be locked, but when she lifted up on the clasp, the lid sprang open, the sound echoing through the space with appropriate drama.

A very soft red blanket lay folded at the bottom. Upon it rested a black satin cinched bag and another piece of paper. Maeve struggled to decide which to open first. She settled on the paper, just in case it contained a warning about what waited inside the bag.

The paper looked and felt like that in the first box. She unfolded it and read the words, “Not a candle, but a flame. Santa’s passage is the same.” She dropped the paper onto the blanket below. “Well, that’s obviously the fireplace.” With gloved fingers, she delicately opened the drawstring bag. She dumped the contents onto the soft blanket for examination.

Three flawless rubies tumbled out. Unlike the emerald, they weren’t inserted into any pieces of jewelry. Vivid red and deeper blood tones resided within the same gemstone. The flashlight revealed the beauty of the facets.

Maeve whispered, “This house is going to pay for itself, and then some!”

The sound of a door shutting below jolted Maeve. Ghost crept to the edge of the ladder to look down.

After placing the precious gems back inside the treasure chest, Maeve tiptoed across the beam to the exit. She couldn’t see further than a few feet from up here. She needed to get out of the attic, but she was determined to do so facing the open room. Plopping her bottom onto the board right in front of the hole, she placed her feet carefully on the top rung. With shaking legs, she climbed down.

She could see no one. The door was shut, so she hadn’t left it ajar for the wind to have blown it open and closed. She glimpsed out the curtain. No one on the porch, and no deliveries.

She double checked the lock to find it secure. The back door appeared undisturbed, as well.

She shivered at the chill in the air. She really should start a fire after she searched the spot for treasure. She’d already stacked a pile of logs next to the hearth earlier in the week in anticipation of the coming cold.

Ghost had joined her downstairs and now perched in stalker position atop the couch, tail twitching as he faced the firebox. Maeve sniffed the air, noting tones of hickory reminiscent of grilled food. She commented, “Funny how just the thought of building a fire can make you smell smoke.”

Her amused expression sobered as her eyes fell upon the low orange flames already licking the logs. Someone had beat her to it.

The bell above the bookstore door announced Maeve’s entry. An employee called out, “Welcome to Mapletown Books!”

Maeve squinted through the glare of the morning sunlight pouring in the front windows to see who had greeted her. The woman came into focus when Maeve approached the bookshelf she was restocking. As the worker turned to face her, a sliver of silvery blond hair escaped her clip. Pushing it away, she smiled. “Can I help you find something?”

“Are you Andrea?” Maeve asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Maeve. I’m here for the job interview.”

Andrea exclaimed, “Oh! Good.” She held onto the bookcase and slowly pushed herself to a standing position. “You don’t know how glad I was to get your email. I’m supposed to be retiring and downgrading to part-time, but I haven’t been able to find enough help to make that possible. There is Mallory, but she’s still in school and can only work from 3:30 to 7:00. I need someone to take the 9:00 to 3:30 shift at least three days a week. Is that something you could do?”

Surprised at the lady’s eagerness to hire her, Maeve took several seconds to form a response. “Um, yes! That will work out perfectly. My schedule is wide open.”

Andrea’s smile could’ve lit the room, were the sunlight not already doing such a brilliant job. “Excellent!” Placing a hand on Maeve’s forearm, she said, “It’ll be much easier for you to get up and down to restock these shelves than it is for me. My old joints went ahead and retired without me, I’m afraid!”

Maeve was no spring chicken either, though she might be twenty years younger than Andrea, if she had to guess. She could still climb a stepladder and bend down if necessary, especially if she stretched beforehand. “I’ve been doing a lot of climbing and squatting while working on my new place. At least I’m not out of practice.”

Andrea turned toward her, an inquisitive look on her face. “Where do you live? I’m familiar with most of the surrounding area.”

“The old Jamison place,” she answered.

Shock covered Andrea’s face. “You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m afraid not. I knew going in it would be a huge project, but I bought it so cheap that I’ve had money left to pour into updates. It’s been keeping me busy, but I’m ready to get back out among the living.”

Andrea raised her eyebrows. “Interesting choice of words. But I sympathize. After my hip surgery, I was off work for six weeks. The solitude drove me nuts!” Pointing to a table near the coffeepot, she instructed, “Please, sit. Let’s have a cup and chat.”

Maeve took a seat while Andrea poured the brew. Passing a basket of creamer and sugar packets across the table, Andrea said, “I hope this is to your liking. It’s much easier than keeping those fancy refrigerated creamers in stock.”

“It suits me just fine.” Maeve peeled open a couple of creamers and dumped them into her coffee. “This smells like quality coffee.”

“Oh, it is. I wouldn’t want the big chain bookstore in Endtown to show us up.”

Stirring in the sugar, Maeve asked, “How far away is that?”

“It’s about thirty minutes from here. I suppose that’s far enough to encourage the locals to come to us first. Of course, there aren’t nearly as many locals in Mapletown. We only have a population of 1400.”

Maeve took a sip. The brew was indeed as good as that in any big bookstore coffee shop. “In my experience, small town residents tend to be far more loyal to their hometown businesses than those living in big cities. They appreciate having stores nearby, and they want to keep them in business so they don’t have to drive further to shop.”

Andrea leaned forward on her elbows. “Speaking of your experience, tell me about your work history. What did you do before coming to Mapletown?”

Maeve took a deep breath and released a laugh. “What did I not do? Let’s see, my first job was at a clothing boutique. When the place closed five years after I started, I went to a factory for a year and a half. Then I spent ten years working in an office as a data entry clerk. When they closed, I waited tables at a fish and steak restaurant for three years before a friend asked me to join her at her new bakery, where I worked until I moved here about a month ago.”

Andrea appeared impressed. “So you have plenty of customer service experience, then.”

Lifting her mug, Maeve nodded in Andrea’s direction and replied, “That, I do.”

Andrea set her cup on a crocheted coaster. “I think you’d be a great addition to our little staff. Now, I know the pay is probably less than that of your previous jobs, but I hope that the enjoyment you get from working here will make up for that. If you’re looking to fix a loneliness problem, we’ve got you covered. The people in this town are some of the friendliest I’ve met.”

Maeve smiled as she thought of the emerald pendant hiding in her wall. Money might not be an issue, especially if this scavenger hunt led to similar treasures. “That sounds just up my alley.”

Maeve dusted the shelves for the umpteenth time in four weeks. For all the particles that continually collected there, it seemed the very ceiling and walls must be shedding. It couldn’t be the cat. She’d just let him inside an hour ago.

He had disappeared into some distant corner to stalk his prey. He was welcome to it, as long as he didn’t eat it on the furniture. Maeve hated dealing with mouse traps. Ghost would handle both the capture and the elimination for her.

The microfiber rag in her hand snagged on a splinter above a hardcover book left behind by the former resident. When Maeve tugged it loose, a small section of the wall pulled forward. She gasped, “Oh, no! Go back together! I can’t afford any more repairs.” But upon closer inspection, she could see that the bulging section was perfectly rectangular.

Grasping two edges with the rag, she slid it toward her. It glided forth like the tray of a cash register. The entire piece came out of the wall. The portion facing her was covered with paneling that matched the surrounding area. Lowering it, Maeve looked down to find a metal handle lying almost flush with the top surface.

She climbed down off her stepladder. Bringing the mystery object over to the kitchen table for better lighting, she dusted away the wall dander and gingerly set it down. Fearing whatever lay inside might pop out like a jack in the box, she stood about a foot away and pulled ever so gently upward on the handle.

Nothing jumped up from within. There, lying on a cushion of red velvet, lay a folded piece of stationery. Whether yellowed by time or by design, she couldn’t tell. When she picked it up, it appeared to be in good condition.

Maeve’s fingers fumbled on the paper’s edges. Finally, her finger caught the gap between the folds and lifted the sheet open. Fancy black script, perhaps written with a calligraphy pen, read: Above the beams, beneath the sky, the treasure holder keeps me dry. Embossed in gold at the bottom was the name of the home’s former owner, Max Stafford.

Maeve let the paper fall back into the box. “Really? A dead person is sending me on a scavenger hunt?”

Ghost let out a shriek and tore through the room at top speed. He wound up under the recliner.

Maeve put a hand over her heart. “If you do that in the middle of the night, you’re going to give me a heart attack. You most definitely will not be sleeping in my room.”

Ghost responded with absolute silence.

Shutting the lid on the clue, Maeve said, “I’ve got a job interview at the bookstore in less than two hours. I don’t have time for games right now.” She picked up the box and started walking toward the shelf to replace the missing chunk of wall. As she lifted it above the book, her hand brushed across another handle on the bottom.

Sighing, she turned the box over. “A hidden compartment. How cliché.” Shaking her head, she tugged the slat upward.

A dazzling green emerald pendant shone up at her. “Whoa!” Suddenly, the game didn’t seem so trite.

Perhaps she would play along, after all. But it would have to wait until she got back from the bookstore. She didn’t want to risk becoming so engrossed in the hunt that she’d make herself late for the interview.

She held the pendant in her hand, caressing its facets. “If you’re real, then my house just became worthy of being broken into.” She glanced out the windows and doors from her position on the stepladder. “Can’t risk anyone seeing you.” She slid the emerald back into its secret spot. Making sure to shove the box in until the paneling clicked back in place, she dusted the area once more before coming down to ground level.

Glancing in the direction of the couch, Maeve said to her invisible cat, “This house just got much more interesting.”

Ghost let out a muted mew to say he’d heard her, but he didn’t exactly agree. From what he’d seen, the home had been full of intriguing things from the moment he’d stepped inside. But cats always notice more than humans do.

Maeve stepped onto the aging front porch and sympathized with the creaking of the floorboards. Last night had been a rough one. She felt the ache of each lost moment of sleep in her bones.

The first cold night of the season had left a glittering sheen upon the pumpkin resting in the diamond grass below. A sudden breeze disturbed the dried corn husks in the neighboring field. The sound sent shivers down Maeve’s back as her worried eyes scanned the area for trespassers. She’d been certain she’d heard someone knocking around in the yard last night, but fear had kept her glued to her bed.

She traipsed the dewy driveway to retrieve her paper from the box. The old recliner her friend had hauled to the roadside for her in hopes that someone might take it off her hands now bore a sparkling coat of frost. She prayed the moisture wouldn’t deter any interested passerby from accepting it.

The “boing” of a spring inside the furniture startled her. Seconds later, a mouse ran out the bottom. She wasn’t surprised to see the frightened critter. The old house she’d recently moved into had harbored various other living things for years. Oh, well. At least she wasn’t alone.

A sudden gust blew through, rustling the husks and calling to mind Maeve’s dream in which tiny skulls on a tree barren of leaves rattled in the wind. The chill in the autumn air intensified her shiver at the memory. Pulling her sweater closed, she quickened her pace toward the porch.

What sounded like a tiny call for help sounded to her right. She turned her head in the direction of the cry. There on the once white porch swing weathered to gray sat a long-haired cat. “Oh! Well, aren’t you camouflaged?” Maeve said as she approached the feline.

It stood and answered in a trilling, close-mouthed tone, “Hmmm?” At least, that’s how Maeve heard it.

Holding out a hand to request permission to pet, Maeve clarified, “It means you blend in.”

The cat did not appear to be feral. It pushed its head into her offered palm, then took a few steps forward to encourage full-body petting. A male voice below said, “I see you’ve met Ghost.”

Maeve whirled around to find a 40 or 50-something man with silver hair and the tan of a farmer. The surprise of seeing anyone in her yard put her at a loss for words.

He filled the silence for her. “I’m Larry, your neighbor.”

Maeve glanced in all directions. There were no houses as far as the eye could see. That was why she’d chosen the place. “I wasn’t aware I had a neighbor.”

Larry smiled. “Across the cornfield, down the hill.”

Not creepy at all. “Were you the one rustling the stalks just a minute ago?”

“I may have ruffled a few husks on my way in. Sorry, I should warn you, I take a morning walk through my field daily. You’ll probably be seeing me around.”

Maeve nodded but inwardly screamed, ‘Well, there goes my privacy!’

“Anyway, if you need anything, I’m just a cornrow trek away. Good to meet you, what did you say your name was?”

It couldn’t hurt to tell a stranger her first name, could it? The wind blew locks of her auburn hair across her mouth as if trying to hide her identity as she answered, “Maeve.”

He nodded. “Maeve.” He glanced over his shoulder at the cornfield. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around.”

The cat nudged her hand once more. “Wait, is this your cat?”

Larry spun on his heel. “Nope.” Pointing to the aging structure behind her, he said, “It comes with the house.”

Maeve shook her head. “That wasn’t in the contract. Are you sure he doesn’t belong to anyone else in this area?”

Larry laughed. “You and I are the only humans in a five-mile radius. I’d say that’s unlikely.”

Maeve glimpsed down at the purring mass of fur massaging her arm with its head. She didn’t know how to be a cat owner. She’d always had dogs. “I’ll have to make flyers and put them around town, then.” She turned to find that Larry had disappeared.

The wind now blew so steadily that the entire field of stalks shook. He must be in there somewhere, headed back to his house down the hill. “Or maybe I imagined him,” Maeve mused.

Another meow brought her attention to her immediate dilemma. “I think I have some canned tuna in the pantry. Come on in.”

Ghost hopped down from the swing with a thud.

“You’re quite substantial for a cat without an owner. You must be a pretty good hunter.”

Having reached the screen door, the cat placed his front feet on the pane with ears perked.

Maeve peered in just in time to see a mouse darting across the floor. Smiling to herself at her good fortune, she opened the door. “Welcome home, Ghost.”