Chapter Twenty-OneFor Lydia, Friday morning was when things escalated from weird to scary.
It started with a drizzle that darkened the sky, as if the sun had decided not to rise all the way. The trees around her cottage hunched over, heavy and wet. As she started through the hedge toward the street, one of the Morris’s wheels spun on the mud-slick grass. Low-hanging branches whipped her windshield and sprayed it with raindrops.
Already Lydia had come to count on Mudge to cheer her up on difficult days. But by 7:30, Mudge hadn’t appeared.
“Oh, now, calm down,” Dinah scoffed. “He’s done this plenty of times.”
“Not since I’ve been here.”
“And how long’s that?” She handed Lydia an empty coffee pot. “You’ll see. His truck broke down, or he stayed out late with his buddies and overslept, or
