“What are you up to, George?” Marie asked as she readied herself and Patrick for church.
“Something you’d best not know about,” Watters told her truthfully.
“Whatever it is, I’d prefer you came to church with us,” Marie adjusted her hat in front of the mirror, turning this way and that to view herself from different angles. “Is my hat all right?”
“It’s grand,” Watters told her.
“You didn’t look,” Marie accused.
Watters sighed. “You always look grand,” Watters said, smiling. He stopped thinking about the case, stepped back, and admired her. “Yes, Marie. Your hat looks lovely. Adjust the angle a fraction, no, the other way. That’s it. Perfect.”
Marie viewed herself again, patting her hair in place. “I hope you’re not doing anything dangerous.”
“No, Marie,” Watters said. “It’s just som
