"Not for you," Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. "Come down to camp this evening and we'll fit you."

"Oh I – I could do that," Lucas agreed. Gwen picked up a half-finished mask – clay, on a wire armature – and laughed at the puff-cheeked face on it. Lucas took it, pointing out details to her, even smiling a little. He'd taken to Gwen much faster than anyone else he'd met, myself included.

I had a moment of concern that it was Gwen, and not the Friendly, which interested him and made him forget himself for a while. Little good comes of land-owners chasing after pretty Friendly girls. They're like the old stories about selkies: they might stay awhile if they liked the look of you, but it was never for life. To enjoy the idea of the Friendly was fine, but it was dangerous to take their easygoing affection too personally.

I shouldn't have worried. Lucas protected his heart well. He was interested in love, I think, in the way we express and attract it -- but he didn't really see that he had a share in it. As fascinated and confused by people as he was -- the way they came together , the way they cared for each other -- his was almost always the quiet, studious analysis of an outsider.

Chapter SEVEN

As the winter grew colder, an increasing number of people in Low Ferry began to appear in the distinctive, colorful coats and hats that the Friendly made, either newly-purchased or taken down out of storage from previous years. They were beautiful pieces of work, well worth the cost: double-layer gloves with buttery leather on the palms, quilted coats decorated with brass buttons and fleecy lining, straps covered in beads and bells that fitted over snow-boots to make them look more festive. The Friendly would sell for cash or barter for goods, and for a small fee would tailor the clothing too.

A few days after the Friendly arrived, Nona Harrison had her twin babies. We'd tried to get her into town for it, but they came a little early and caught us all by surprise. Kirchner was only about halfway to the farm when they were born, but fortunately Low Ferry had a midwife who lived out that way, and Bertha looked after Nona just fine. It's pretty common for winter babies to be home births, which is why there aren't too many of them if it can be avoided. Both babies were healthy and we expected the population of Low Ferry to increase by two, but...it didn't, quite.

"Did you know Bertha?" Paula asked me, when the news finally hit town. "She wasn't born here, you know, came out in the seventies my dad says. I think she was a hippie."

"More of her than know her, she's not a big reader," I answered, toying with the edge of the receipt-paper where it stuck out of the till. "Wasn't a big reader, I mean."

"It's terrible she died, but everyone's sort of thinking it..."

"At least it wasn't Nona or the babies?" I said with a grim smile.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm sorry to lose Bertha, but it's always harder when a baby dies. I'm glad Nona's boys are healthy."

"Well," I said, and then stopped and glanced away.

"What?"

"Have you heard people talking about them?" I asked.

"About the boys? Not much, why?"

"Listen, I don't believe this, you know I'm a practical guy. But I don't exactly set policy in the village. People sort of...they think there's something wrong with them. Spiritually."

Paula cocked her head. "Really? Why?"

"I don't know exactly, but Kirchner's been out to see Nona and he says she's not doing as well as she could be. Steve Harrison says he's worried about his wife. None of the women from the church will go out there. I think they think the babies killed Bertha."

"Killed her!"

"Well, she did die at the Harrison place, and it wasn't very long after the babies were born. I'm only telling you what I've heard," I said, as Lucas and the boy entered the shop. I put a finger to my lips and Paula nodded. Lucas hung his coat up on a hook near the door, gave Paula a shy nod, and vanished into the shelves. The boy examined the comic books critically.

"When are you getting new ones?" he demanded.

"The roads are out, kiddo," I answered. "Unless they're planning on airlifting comic books in, it'll probably be another week. Buy a real book, feed your mind."

"My mind's full already," he replied.

"No such thing," Paula ruffled his hair and gave me a nod. "See you around, Christopher."

"You know where to find me," I said. When the door closed behind her, I called, "She's gone now, Lucas, you can come out."

He gave me a sheepish smile around the corner of a bookshelf. "Force of habit."

"No skin off my nose. Nice coat, by the way – is that the one Gwen and Tommy sold you?" I asked, coming around the counter to examine it. It was thick and gray, with black hook-and-eye fastenings and a soft black lining on the pockets and hood. He gave me a proud nod.

"I gave them eight masks for it, promised two more," he said. "Cheap at the price."

"Ten masks will sell for a lot, though – what did they ask you for?"

He gave me a blank look. "Ten masks."

"You didn't haggle?"

"No...should I have?"

"Well, yes. It's expected."

"Ah," he said. "That explains why Gwen looked at me funny."