Emmy stalked to her window, lifted the screen, and hurled the cane over the lawn and straight at the trees. She watched with deep satisfaction as the awful thing speared into a bush at the edge of the woods.

Good. Let it stay there and rot.

A small grating sound drew Emmy’s eyes back to the playroom as the telescope rolled slowly out from beneath the toy chest.

Emmy looked at it, startled. How—? Oh, it must have been dislodged by the cane that she’d just pulled out. She jammed the spyglass into an old backpack and ran down to the pantry with a light heart.

“Here you go,” said Maggie, tucking a plastic bottle in Emmy’s backpack. “Now don’t forget, Emmy—come in early tonight. There’s company coming.”

“Who is it, Maggie?”