The Trap by Joan Lowery Nixon

job yesterday. She had a spot open after Mrs. Crouch left so she gave it to the Hodges. It’s extra work at first, so I went with her to help her.”
    Ashley didn’t give an excuse for not coming with her grandmother to our house that morning, and I didn’t push it. I just grinned and said, “I’d love another chance to beat you—backstroke or butterfly.”
    She smiled in return. “How about Monday?”
    “You’re on,” I said. Then I got a sudden idea. “Aunt Glenda told me she’ll only be here a short time because she doesn’t want to leave Uncle Gabe alone for long. Why don’t you come back to their house with me, and we’ll see what Gabe’s telescope can do with the stars.”
    Ashley’s eyes lit up, but she had no chance to answer.
    Millie Lee, returning to the kitchen, spoke for her. “That would be nice,” she said. “Ashley, you go with the Hollisters when they leave, and I’ll pick you up at their house about ten or ten-thirty.”
    “Won’t you need me to help you?” Ashley asked.
    Shaking her head, Millie Lee said, “I’m used to doin’ just fine without you. There’s not that much work here besides puttin’ out the food people bring. Then, after they all leave, makin’ sure that what needs keepin’ cold gets put in the refrigerator.”
    “I’ll help you until the Hollisters leave,” Ashley insisted. She picked up a plate of bite-sized sandwiches and carried it toward the dining room.
    I said, “See you in a few minutes,” then wanderedback to the living room. I found a seat near the fireplace—an area everyone seemed to be avoiding. I couldn’t help looking at the brick ledge around the fireplace, where Mr. Barrow had fallen and hit his head. There was no way of telling what had happened. The bricks must have been scrubbed clean. I glanced next at the nearby table where I’d seen the company paperweight that meant so much to Mrs. Barrow and was surprised to see that the paperweight wasn’t there.
    She’s showing it to someone, I thought, but for some reason I had to make sure. I got up and edged over to where Mrs. Barrow was standing, being comforted by some of her friends.
    “I’ll be going home—back to Houston—soon as I can sell this house,” she was saying. Her smile wobbled, and I could hear a strange note of eagerness in her voice. “My son and his family live there, you know. Three darling boys and one girl. I just can’t see enough of them. Annabelle’s six, just the right age to begin going with her grandmother to the symphony’s First Concert programs for children.”
    Everyone in the group began telling grandchildren stories, and I left the group. Mrs. Barrow wasn’t holding the paperweight, and it wasn’t on the table near her. I slowly circled the living room, looking in every possible spot, and convinced myself that the paperweight was no longer in the living room.
    No one was paying any attention to me, so I slipped out of the room and made a quick trip through the two large bedrooms and the bathrooms. No sign of the paperweight. Why was it missing? It couldn’t havemeant anything to anyone but the Barrows. I wondered if Mrs. Barrow had already packed it away.
    I saw her enter a bathroom, so I waited for her. The moment she stepped back into the hall, I stopped her. “I was looking for your paperweight,” I said.
    “Paperweight?” She looked puzzled for a moment. Then she said, “Oh, the company paperweight. It should be where I always keep it, on the table by the fireplace.”
    She didn’t know that her paperweight was missing. So of course she wouldn’t know who had taken it.
    I jumped as someone rested a hand on my shoulder. Turning quickly, I saw that it was Millie Lee.
    “Julie,” she said, “your aunt’s lookin’ for you. She said it’s time to get home to make sure your uncle takes his medicine.”
    Glenda and I said our goodbyes to Mrs. Barrow and to some of the others. Ashley joined us, and we drove home.
    As we came in the