The Unforgiven by Patricia MacDonald

she wondered. She scanned the room sharply. All of the Thornhills’ ornaments were in place. She walked over and lifted up a sterling silver candy dish on the bookcase. There was a faint ring of dust around its base. It had not even been touched.
    It didn’t make sense. Why would someone take a bottle of perfume and leave a sterling silver plate? Maggie hurried to her bedroom. As she came through the door, she half expected to see all her belongings strewn on the floor. She steeled herself.
    The room was neat and undisturbed. She rushed to her closet and threw open the door, her heart pounding in her ears. Everything was there, all in order. No one would come into a house and take just a bottle of perfume. As she turned away from the closet and switched on the bedside lamp, an unfamiliar shape seemed to wink at her in the mirror across the room. Her eyes darted to the dresser top. There sat the bottle of perfume.
    Maggie stared at it a minute. Then she walked over to pick it up. Now, how did this get in here? She retraced her steps of the morning. She had put the perfume on the mantel, and then.… “And then I came in here and got a sweater,” she said aloud. Relief made her laugh aloud.
    It must be prison; it turned forgetfulness into suspicion and paranoia. Still, it made her realize how jumpy her nerves were. She looked down at the bottle, safely in her hand. Either that or you’re lovesick.
    Then she banished the thought.

6
    Maggie glanced up as Evy entered the office and sat down at the desk across from hers. All day she had barely seen the girl, who had been relegated by Jess to a job in the art room. Evy inserted a piece of paper into her typewriter and studied the roller as she turned it. She looked up, startled to find Maggie watching her.
    Maggie quickly lowered her head and began shuffling through the papers on her desk. Then she opened her desk drawer, pulled out a pencil, and closed it again.
    “How was your weekend?”
    The question took Maggie by surprise. She met Evy’s gaze diffidently. “Fine, thank you,” she replied.
    The girl nodded and seemed to cast about for a way to begin a conversation. “Did you do anything special?” she asked.
    Maggie contemplated the girl for a moment without replying. Taking the initiative in a conversation seemed to be beyond Evy’s usual scope. It occurred to Maggie as she looked at her that Evy must have been a scrawny, unattractive child. The kind of child that people forget to hug and kiss. The thought gave rise to a wave of protective feelings for the girl.
    “I went up to see some puppies,” she offered. “I think I found one.”
    “That’s nice,” said Evy. “What kind?”
    “Just a mutt. Mostly beagle.”
    “Where’d you get it?” the girl asked.
    “Well, I don’t have it yet. It can’t leave its mother for a few days. Some people named Wilson have the dogs.”
    “Oh, I know them,” said Evy. She was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “How did you know they had puppies there?”
    Maggie squirmed slightly. “I was just driving by,” she said. “I saw a sign, so I stopped in.” She began an exaggerated motion of making an erasure on the paper in front of her.
    “Well, that was lucky,” said Evy. She hesitated. Then she asked casually, “Did you go by yourself?”
    Maggie stopped short, then slowly continued her erasing with hard, deliberate strokes. She heard the anxious catch in the girl’s voice. Jess. That was what this sudden interest in her weekend activities was all about. Maggie sighed. “Yes,” she lied. “I was just out exploring.”
    “That’s nice,” said Evy enthusiastically. “You should have called me. I would have come with you.”
    Maggie gave her a grateful smile. The friendly overture made the lie seem worthwhile. “Thanks,” she said. “Next time I will.”
    Just then, they heard the outer door slam. Grace trudged into the office and dumped several packages down on her desk by the door. “How’s