Five
Even though it was after midnight when Ruthie got home, her mother was still up. Not a surprise; neither of her parents had ever followed normal working hours.
“Honey, is that you?” Angelica Malone called from the kitchen, where she was working on retiling the counter with clay tiles she’d made herself. “Greta Desroches left a message for you. It’s a strange one. She said she consulted with the cedar waxwings and that she’s finally ready to talk to your tape recorder.”
Her first interview! Woo-hoo!
Ruthie hung her denim jacket on the peg in the arctic entry of her parents’ rambling farmhouse. She’d intended to find a place of her own when she got back. Unlike her parents, she liked regular hours and an orderly environment. But she’d been so busy with the museum that she hadn’t had
