Fifty
Lisha tucked the hand-crocheted afghan around Mrs. Hatly's knees. "There you are. Take a snuggle nap before dinner." She checked the call light and clipped it to the blanket, then pushed the chair around so Mrs. Hatly could monitor the hall activity. "Anything else?"
"There he goes. He's back. Was he really in jail?" Mrs. Hatly pointed down the hall.
Lisha pivoted just in time to see Clarence, escorted by a deputy, turn the corner down another hall. "Well, the lost is found. Or the dead has a'risen. And ... I'm not supposed to say he was in jail, Mrs. Hatly." Lisha folded her arms across her chest. "You said it. I didn't." Still, she leaned into the hall to catch a glimpse of them.
"I hope he's all right." Mrs. Hatly pulled the afghan up on her chest, tucking her arms underneath.
