"Hi, Aunt Emily!" chirped Clarissa on the phone.

"Hel-lo," Emily drawled, wondering what had sweetened her great-niece. They hadn't parted on the best of terms. Still, the ritual of polite conversation must be followed. "How are the wedding plans going?" Meaning, "Am I still invited?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked. It will be a wonderful ceremony, in a lovely church with a stuffy minister and organ music and all. We have such hopes for our reception and honeymoon, too. I was wondering if it wouldn't be out of line to ask for a bit of cash in advance instead of a present?"

"I haven't gone shopping yet so I don't see why not."

"Perfect! Could you wire me five hundred dollars by the weekend?"

"Five hundred--" Emily about choked. "I was thinking more on the lines of twenty-five."

"That would barely be a drop in the bucket!"

"I'm on a limited income, you know."

"But you don't have any real expenses! You don't have a car, and never party or take trips or anything, so you ought to be able to afford--"

"Need to run now, Clarissa. Send me a note with your address and I'll mail you a twenty-five-dollar check. Goodbye!" Emily hung up, shaking her head.

A month later -- invited or not -- she went to the wedding, dressed in one of the disguises she now wore when walking through town. She continued to elude her stalkers, and escaped Clarissa's notice as well. She only set foot into the reception hall to leave an unsigned card containing two tens and a five.

.

The week of Thanksgiving she worked dawn to dusk in the back room of Ginny's bakery, helping churn out hundreds of dinner rolls and dozens of pumpkin pies.

In early December she helped in the back room of Hattie's florist shop, making holiday wreaths.

She dog-sat on New Years Eve, watching the drumming out of 1964 on Dora's new console television. Full color! Amazing!

When she got home midmorning on the first day of 1965, Emily sat down to her New Year's ritual and went over her finances. She smiled at the total of her part-time earnings for the last few months. If she didn't splurge on a color television for herself -- tempting! -- she'd be well on her way to repairing her finances. A year ago, her savings had been sliding downward too steeply for comfort, what with all the doctor visits and hospital costs.

Now, health regained and savings creeping upwards, her future looked bright.

If she could avoid the Seattle mobsters, that is.

Emily had seen fewer and fewer traces of her stalkers. They knew where she lived, but didn't know about her path out the backyard gate and into the woods, so she could come and go without their notice.

Were they giving up on nabbing her? What on earth did they want her for, anyway?

Even while the auras of their presence diminished, her sighting of ley lines came more and more often. Almost daily now. What on earth -- literally -- did they mean?