10It was nearly dusk on Sunday evening, and at long last Molly could proclaim freedom from the wretched hangover that had kept her in sunglasses and popping aspirin all weekend. She was feeling so much better that she thought she would venture out for a walk. Sadly, Pâtisserie Bujold would be closed, so perhaps she would go in the other direction, out of town, to see how things looked out that way, and feel gratitude for not dying a death of two Negronis.
Rue des Chênes was quiet, and before long, the houses were quite far apart and she was in the countryside. She strolled along, wishing she had a dog for company, and checked out the houses and then farms along the way, trying to be sneaky about her staring, but it seemed everyone was inside, gathering themselves for the week to come. She
