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of his high-end gift shop, Boutique. Cassie watched until he disappeared inside, then turned to face the lake.
    The back parking lot was a mere few steps to the water, which was calm and sun-glinted today. Just looking at the surface made Cassie feel more peaceful, so she stood there for several long moments. To her left was a long dock that reached twenty-five yards out into the water, and was used to help her customers give kayaks and canoes a test drive before they purchased them. The bottom floor of her store, the basement, was actually a walk-out, the whole wall that faced Lake Henry a bank of windows, and featured any water equipment you might need. She could see her mother inside behind the counter, ringing out a customer. The floor above her was the main one and housed general sportswear, jackets, and equipment for any team sports, plus the shoe department and the front door, where customers entered from Main Street. Frannie, Cassie’s very first and most trusted employee (aside from her mother) was managing at the moment. The second floor was stocked full with winter apparel, ski equipment, snowshoes, snowboards, and anything else that might be needed for the coming months. She had two employees working up there today, as it was the beginning of peak season. A third would be in at noon.
    With a deep breath, she turned and headed inside.
    “Hey, Mom,” Cassie said in greeting as the customer left with a large bag. Three more were milling about.
    Katie Parker opened her arms to her daughter. Cassie stepped into them without further prompting. “How’re you doing, sweetie?”
    “Ugh,” Cassie groaned into her shoulder, then breathed in the scent of Red Door, her mother’s one and only perfume. “I’m glad it’s over.”
    “Are you positive you don’t want to go to the lunch at Harbordale? I’m sure we could get somebody to cover down here.”
    Cassie shook her head as a young woman approached the counter with a pair of sunglasses. “No. It’s fine. I don’t really want to go, but you and Dad should. Just let me go up and change, and I’ll come down and relieve you, okay?”
    She wasn’t quite ready to deal with the rest of her employees, let alone customers, so she took the back staircase up to the top floor of the building where her apartment was. She barely got the door open before she was greeted by forty-one pounds of wiggling, wagging Australian Shepherd who let her know how displeased he was to be locked up at home rather than down in the store where he much preferred to be.
    “Hey, Gordie,” Cassie said softly. She opened her arms, and he leapt into them without any further prompting, a trick she taught him when he was still a puppy. Cassie buried her face in his soft, tri-colored fur and held him tight. Sensing her emotions—something at which her dog was frighteningly adept—he remained still in her embrace, allowing her to hold him as long as she needed to.
    When she felt better, she let him down, checked her messages (none), and headed into her bedroom—Gordie right behind her—suddenly needing nothing more than to get out of the little black dress as quickly as possible. With a relieved groan, she kicked off her modest heels wondering, not for the first time, why women insisted on wearing such uncomfortable footwear. Trying not to dwell on the morning’s activity of attending the funeral of a woman she’d loved and respected a great deal, she pulled off her dress and tossed it in a heap on the bed. Once in her wind pants and fleece pullover with The Sports Outfitter logo embroidered on the left chest, she felt like a normal human again. Stopping by the bathroom, she gave her teeth a quick brush, wiped off her mascara and its subtle black smudges left under her eyes, and pulled her dark hair into a ponytail.
    “Better,” she said to her reflection, then gave one quick nod. “Okay, Gordie. Let’s go to work.”
    Gordie had only a tiny nub of a tail, but his entire back end wiggled