The Unforgiven by Patricia MacDonald Page A

everything?” Grace addressed herself to Evy.
    “Okay,” said Evy, and she returned to her typewriter.
    “Grace, have you got that.…” Jess rushed in and met Grace’s irritated glance. “Sorry, take your coat off. I’m looking for that column on fishhook injuries.”
    “I don’t know where it is,” said Grace. “She had it.”
    “It’s right here,” said Maggie, ignoring Grace.
    “Thanks,” said Jess absently, and he began running his forefinger down the page.
    “Honestly, I’m so disgusted,” Grace announced. “Friday is my mother-in-law’s birthday, and I went up to Croddick’s to get her a sweater she wanted, and it was gone. Now I don’t know what to get.”
    Jess looked up from his reading. “Try the pharmacy. He’s got lots of nice perfumes and soaps and things.”
    “Since when are you the expert on ladies’ toiletries?” Grace asked him, bemused.
    Jess shrugged, but his eyes held a guilty, laughing look, and he shot a brief glance at Maggie. “I get around, you know,” he said.
    Maggie could feel Evy’s eyes on her, but she did not look up.
    “Well, why don’t you get her a book?” Jess suggested.
    Grace stared at him. “What?”
    “Your mother-in-law. Get her a book on gardening.”
    “A book!” said Grace incredulously. “She’s half blind.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something,” she muttered. Grace unbuttoned her black coat and shrugged it off. Then she draped it over her arm and headed for the coatrack in the hall.
    Jess smiled at Maggie conspiratorially. Evy began to type. “Just trying to be helpful,” he said.
    Maggie forced a smile.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    Maggie nodded. Jess came over to her desk and sat down beside it. “What’d you do yesterday?” he asked.
    “Nothing much,” she said. “Things around the house. Cleaning. I did some reading.”
    Jess toyed with the letter opener near the edge of her desk. He picked it up, ran it down his palm, and then replaced it. “I had a nice time with you on Saturday,” he said. “I guess you’ll be glad to get that puppy home.”
    Maggie shifted uneasily in her chair. From Evy’s direction the typing faltered, then stopped.
    “Yes,” she replied softly.
    “I’m glad I could show you a little bit of the island. There are a lot of other beautiful spots I’d like you to see.”
    “I’m sure there are,” said Maggie grimly.
    “Listen,” said Jess, “I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
    “Tonight,” she repeated, staring at him. “I can’t.” She could feel her face burning and was acutely aware of the silence from Evy’s direction. She was conscious that she was trying to say as little as possible, although she realized that Evy had already heard more than enough.
    “Well,” he said, “that’s too bad.” He got up from the chair as Grace reappeared in the doorway.
    “Thank you anyway,” she whispered. Surreptitiously, Maggie glanced over at Evy. The girl sat facing hertypewriter, her hands clenched in her lap. Maggie could see the muscles in her dead white face working as she stared straight in front of her.
    “Evy,” Grace broke in, “are you done with those paste-ups?”
    “They’re on your desk,” Evy snapped.
    “Pardon me,” Grace sniffed, then flipped through the sheaf of dummy sheets. “Well, these are all right,” she pronounced. “Now, why don’t you work on those new subscriptions for the rest of the day.”
    Evy pushed back her chair and stood up. “No, I can’t. I’m going home.”
    “Home?” Grace yelped. “It’s only four o’clock.”
    “Well, I feel sick, and I’m leaving,” Evy muttered, shoving the chair into the desk.
    The older woman was immediately concerned. “What is it, honey?” she said, coming over and placing a hand on Evy’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”
    Evy shook off her hand and stared at Maggie. “I feel like throwing up,” she