Tilly MacGuire's home was a charming, idyllic place to raise a brood of
children, and she had done just that. The spry sixty-five-year-old
woman had married at age fourteen, produced eight offspringtall
girlstbut after her youngest had married and moved away and her third
husband had passed on, she converted her six-bedroom home to a boarding
facility.
She didn't need the money, she needed the companionship. She was a
discriminating landlord and chose aKs boarders only those ladies for
whom she felt a kinship. She boasted of being a stickler for rules.
Men weren't allowed above the first floor, no matter what the reason,
her ladies had to be home by ten o'clock every night, including
Saturday, they must attend church with her on Sunday morning, and none
of them could miss supper. Her houseguests put up with the regulations
for the simple reason that as long as they followed the rules, they
were gloriously pampered. The food was always delicious and plentiful,
the bedrooms were spacious and beautifully adorned, and the linens were
changed every other day. More important than the luxuries, though, was
Tilly herself. She was a sweet-hearted woman who treated her selected
guests like long-lost family members.
If the truth were known, Tilly was also a real softy under her tough,
no-nonsense exterior. She had already broken one of her ironclad rules
by allowing Jessica and her son to stay with her. Since her own
children were grown, Tilly didn't allow babies or children because of
the mess they made, but little Caleb turned out to be her one
exception. The toddler, a pistol if ever there was one, stole her
heart when he batted his big brown eyes and stuck his tongue out at
her.
She was laughing at the baby's antics when the marshals knocked on her
screen door. Tilly was a little acorn of a woman with sparkling eyes
and deep-set wrinkles. She was smiling until she spotted their
badges.
Latching on to Caleb's hand, she slowly walked to the door.
'You're here to question my girls, aren't you? ' 'Yes, ma'am, we are,
' Ryan answered.
Her frown intensified. 'They're both worried and scared, and only just
getting over a hard bout of influenza. Poor Jessica was almost well
and then suffered a setback. She was throwing up most of Wednesday
evening. It's a shame those girls have got to be scared too.
You might as well come on inside. They're both in the kitchen doing my
dishes. I don't regularly allow houseguests to set foot in the back of
my house, but my hired girls are both home sick, and I'm feeling a
