She sounds too anxious, thought Ted Graham. I wish she'd let me do the talking for the two of us.
"We can come back and look at your trailer tomorrow in daylight," said Rush. "My car's right out here, if you'd like to see our house."
Ted Graham hesitated. He felt a nagging worry tug at his mind, tried to fix his attention on what bothered him.
"Hadn't we better take our car?" he asked. "We could follow you."
"No need," said Rush. "We're coming back into town tonight anyway. We can drop you off then."
Ted Graham nodded. "Be right with you as soon as I lock up."
Inside the car, Rush mumbled introductions. His wife was a dark shadow in the front seat, her hair drawn back in a severe bun. Her features suggested gypsy blood. He called her Raimee.
Odd name, thought Ted Graham. And he noticed that she, too, gave that strange first impression of age that melted in a shift of light.
Mrs. Rush turned her gypsy features toward Martha Graham. "You are going to have a baby?"
It came out as an odd, veiled statement.