“If that happens, let him or her in. It'll make sure you don't have a rodent problem. And you'll have a nice, quiet friend. One who will never play music you don't like or hog the remote.”
She stood, reluctantly disengaging her hand from Mark's. “I have to go. But we'll see you for dinner tonight, right?”
He smiled. “Wouldn't miss it. What time?”
“Seven should be good.”
“I'll be there.” He walked with her around the house, to where the footpath from her house merged with the asphalt driveway leading up from the county road. As she turned to leave, he seemed to want to say something else, but then simply let her go with a wave.
*****
Several hours later, Mark pressed the doorbell of the small, ranch-style home of Cynthia and Brianna Martin. Unsure of what to wear for what was not a da
