“How did Blues convince Shannon to take the job?”

“I have no idea. Blues said that she sent positive messages out into the universe directed at the problem and the cosmos answered in a positive manner. Frankly, I have no idea what she was talking about, but apparently whatever she did worked. Shannon ’s last job ended three days before Ethan and Rosie were born…” Susan yawned. “And she called the Canfields and said she would be happy to take the job.”

“So she was already working in Philadelphia?” Kathleen asked.

“No, she wasn’t. The job with the ill baby was in D.C. so she didn’t have far to travel.” Susan’s second yawn made her eyes water.

“Where does she live? I mean, when she isn’t working?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t even think about it. Just because she lives in on her jobs doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a home, does it?”

“I doubt it. She must have someplace that she goes between jobs-or on her days off. She does have days off, doesn’t she?”

“Lord, I never thought of that.” And Susan already couldn’t imagine how they would manage without her.

“Is she a registered nurse, an RN?”

“I think so.”

“Was she hired through an agency? I mean are Rhythm and Blues paying her directly or are they paying an agency that then pays her?”

“I have no idea. If she worked for an agency, they would know about her work history, wouldn’t they?” Susan asked.

“Yes, but they might not be willing to tell just anybody. You know,” Kathleen added, “you could just ask her.”

“I suppose, but I don’t want her to feel as though I’m interrogating her or worried about her.”

“But you are!”

“I know, but I didn’t hire her, and the kids-and my grandchildren-are depending on her. Kathleen, I don’t want to wait for your friend. I think we should drive up to that island and ask some questions… Although I don’t want to leave Chrissy and Shannon alone today.”

“Look, why don’t we do some online research? Murders at a nursing home must have gotten mention in more than a few newspapers.”

“And there’s even a Web site that rates nursing homes. I remember someone at the club, who was looking for a place for her parents, telling me about it,” Susan suggested.

“If you can check that out, I’ll go home and see what I can find out from newspaper archives,” Kathleen said. “At least I’ll try. We had parental controls put on the computer so we wouldn’t have to worry about Alex running into something a ten-year-old shouldn’t see. Unfortunately they seem to control the oddest things. Jerry’s niece is graduating from Beaver College next month and we wanted to find out when the ceremony is-”

“And the computer wouldn’t let you.”

“You got it! But I’ll keep track of any dead ends and you can research them. You know, Susan, maybe you could bring these things up in casual conversation. It’s not suspicious to ask someone you don’t know where they live-or where they worked.”

“Kathleen, don’t think I haven’t tried. But you can’t imagine how impossible it is to have a casual conversation around here! In the past…” She paused and glanced down at her watch to check the time. “In the past nineteen hours since the kids arrived, I’ve hardly managed to finish my thoughts, never mind communicating them-”

As if to prove what she was saying the doorbell rang. Kathleen swiveled in her chair and glanced out the window at the street. “United Parcel truck,” she announced.

“Oh, that must be the stroller I ordered. I guess I’ll have to send it back and find one for two babies,” she said, getting up and going to the door.

“Oh, my lord!”

“What’s wrong?” Kathleen asked, following her out into the hallway.

The tall man in a dark brown uniform was pushing a loaded dolly up the driveway. And, from the pile next to the door, Susan got the impression that he had waited until his third or fourth trip to ring the bell.

“You having another wedding here?” the deliveryman asked as he added to the mound of packages. Susan recognized him as being the same man who drove this route the year her daughter was married.

“No.” Susan glanced at the label on the top package. It was addressed to Chrissy and Stephen. “My daughter and her husband and their babies are staying with us for a while though.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Canfield?” he asked.

“Yes. Are these all for them?”

“All these and about twenty more in the truck. I’ll get the rest of ’em and then someone’s got a lot of signing to do.”

A loud wail floated down the stairway.

“I’ll sign,” Susan said. She had a feeling Chrissy was going to be busy for a while.

SEVEN

IT TOOK SUSAN ALMOST HALF AN HOUR TO CARRY ALL THE boxes inside and put them in place. She stacked them in the living room, up until now the only room in the house spared a lashing of baby paraphernalia. And then, after tossing another load of baby clothing into the washer, she went back to Jed’s study and turned on the computer.

Susan found the Internet both fascinating and time consuming. She would start looking for a new recipe for chicken for dinner and end up spending hours checking out weekend rates at luxury ski lodges in the Italian Alps-before going out to dinner. Over the past few years, she had planned hundreds of vacations they had never-and would never-go on, learned how to do dozens of projects she would never even begin, and contemplated the personal musings of strangers who seemed convinced their every thought worth her time. They rarely were.

Today she was determined to maintain her focus and in less than five minutes she had found what she was looking for: the Perry Island Care Center ’s Web site. After checking out photos of the grounds, representative resident rooms, and a highly self-congratulatory description of the services it offered, she had the name and phone number of the admissions director, the center’s street address, and a map. A few minutes more and she had discovered the ferry schedule to the island. She exited the program, turned off the computer, sat back, finished the last half inch of cold coffee in her mug, reached for the phone and dialed the Perry Island Care Center ’s admitting office.

In a few minutes, she had set up an appointment to tour the nursing home and to discuss her mother’s possible admission. She grabbed the papers she had printed and hurried into the hallway. Shannon was coming up from the basement with a basketful of clean laundry. Susan looked into the open doorway to the kitchen and saw her daughter sitting at the kitchen table, eating a cinnamon roll and thumbing through the newspaper.

“Chrissy, I’ve got to go out for a few hours,” she said, entering the room.

“Oh, are you going by a drugstore? We’re out of A and D ointment. I know I packed an extra tube, but Shannon and I can’t find it.”

“No problem. I’ll stop in town on my way home. Anything else?”

Chrissy used both hands to push her thick blond hair off her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I don’t think so,” she answered uncertainly.

“Tell you what, I’ll get my errands done and call you before I go to the drugstore and you can let me know if you’ve thought of anything else… unless you need the ointment right away?”

“No, we’ll be fine. We need a diaper service, but-”

“I thought you were going to call some.”

“I’m going to, but they’re expensive and they all want a monthlong contract and I don’t know which one is best. And Ethan has such delicate skin.”

“Why don’t you call Kathleen and see if she has ever used a service. Or Erika. You know she and Brett have a six-month-old.”

“Good idea,” Chrissy said without a lot of enthusiasm.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” Susan asked, instantly back in mother mode. “Having the twins and then moving… Maybe you should see a doctor. The gynecologist you used to go to is still in town and-”