When Emily returned to the front of the shop, carrying a tray of overbrowned snickerdoodles, the baker's children had their noses pressed to the window, staring out at the street beyond.

Ginny hung up the phone on the counter. "Is he gone? Good. Now go get the window cleaner and wipe off those menacing smears that scared him off."

"How many cookies do we each get for protecting the shop?" one of the twins asked.

Ginny surveyed the snickerdoodles. Not fit for sale. "Three each. After the window-cleaning. Now scoot!" She turned to Emily. "The police are on their way. What's going on? Why is that mobster looking for you?"

Emily sank onto a stool, elbows on counter and chin in hands. "All I can figure is that local gossip has blown way out of proportion. But how did they hear about it all the way over in Chicago?"

"'It'?"

Emily told Ginny the whole story, from its advent on that magical twilight – twined by stray cats, lit by bright gossamer pathways, ending with a flare that restored her health – to all her adventures finding lost toys and toddlers and loot from a robbery.

"I haven't told anyone else," she finished. "Who would believe I see auras and the fading paths of people and animals? I tell them I'm just lucky at finding things!"

"Maybe the mob needs something found. This skill of yours could put an astounding power into the wrong hands." Ginny tapped fingers on the counter. "You know, you need to confide in your friends so we can rally to protect you."

"Against gangsters?" Emily huffed her scorn. "I don't want my friends drawn into this. Don't want anyone else threatened."

"Too late for that." Ginny glanced at her daughters busily cleaning the window. She stood. "Look. Police car pulling in at the curb."

Two officers came in. "Ah-hah!" said the tall one, pointing at Emily. "You're the psychic, right? Edwards gave us the scoop from his arrest of the liquor-store thief. What a catch!"

The shorter officer glared his partner into silence and asked about today's encounter.

Emily and Ginny told about the big burly fellow with the low-brimmed hat, Chicago accent, and bad manners. The girls piped up about their donut-dough battle with the bad guy.

"He's been watching my house," Emily said. "I've seen him several times. He drives a long, sleek, black car."

"We'll put more patrols on the streets, see if we can spot him," one officer said. "Meanwhile, do you have somewhere else to stay for a few days?"

Emily thought of the slip of paper Leetsa had given her. An address and phone number. "Yes," she said, then fibbed. "North of Seattle."

After they left, Emily shook her head. "Psychic?!" She turned to Ginny. "Would you mind if I asked Carol to give me a lift first thing in the morning? Not nearly so far as Seattle, to tell the truth."

The baker hitched eyebrows. "The gangster won't notice a couple of teenagers taking a joy ride, now will he!"

"Teenagers?"

"Carolcan doll you up enough to pass for one. At a distance, anyway." Ginnysqueezed Emily's hand. "She'll be delighted to take a bit part in your hiding-from-the-mobadventure!"

.

prompt word: "advent"