big a fire," Whit said modestly, smiling at Maggie. "And the firemen were there right away." He shook his head in disbelief. "You just happened to leave the kitchen right before that stove blew?" His eyes on hers were warm with concern and relief. "Man, you got any idea how lucky you are?"
Maggie was beginning to, and the knowledge made her weak and watery inside. If she hadn't eaten the hot dog, would she still have felt sick enough to leave the room? Gingerly fingering the thick gauze bandage on her cheek, she asked if there were other, more serious injuries.
"Don't know," Alex answered. "Lots of people in the barbecue line were knocked silly. I don't think anyone was killed, though."
Maggie gasped.
"It was an explosion, Maggie. Someone could have died."
"Well, I'm glad no one did!" She touched the bandage again. "Everything hurts. Even my eyebrows."
"You landed on your face when you hit the floor," Helen said. "But it doesn't look that bad, Maggie, honestly it doesn't. Anyway," her voice shook again, "you're just so lucky to be alive. We were all so sure ..." Unable to finish the thought, Helen feS silent.
Feeling a pang of sympathy, Maggie reached out to touch Helen's hand. With Helen's parents gone, she relied heavily on her friends. "I'm sorry you
were scared." Maggie managed a small, shaky laugh. "If Fd known the stove was going to blow, Fd have hollered out the window that I was running to safety, so you'd have known."
Her parents came rushing in then, her mother's face pale and set, her father's brows drawn together in a worried frown. Whit signaled to the others, and they eased out of the room, leaving Maggie to be comforted by her parents.
When all of her X rays came back negative, she was allowed to go home.
She slept an exhausted sleep and woke up late, to an argument at breakfast about the restoration project.
"After what happened yesterday and last night, you can't possibly be thinking about continuing," her father told her mother. "The old courthouse has served its purpose, Sheila. Let it rest in peace."
Maggie, aching in every part of her body, her cheek and nose throbbing, sat quietly at the table as they argued. Her father had never been all that enthusiastic about the restoration project. But as always, he had eventually supported her mother's efforts to improve the community. Now he sounded adamant. "Maggie was lucky yesterday and she was lucky again last night. Next time," he pressed, "her luck might run out."
Maggie was glad she hadn't told them about the gavel. Not that it had anything to do with the explosion last night, but her dad was already so upset, he'd go ballistic if he heard that someone had
brought a nasty message right here to this very house.
"Give it up, Sheila. YouVe got the damage from the explosion to deal with now, as well as all the other problems. Who knows what might happen next?"
"That explosion was a fluke," Maggie's mother argued. She was standing beside the kitchen sink, sipping orange juice. "A defective gas line. Just one, Martin. We'll have all of the old lines replaced. We had planned to do that anyway. And we always intended to get rid of that horrible little kitchen." A frown appeared. "But you could be right. Not about the damage ... we could fix all of that. But about not knowing what might happen next. It does seem odd, though," she mused aloud, her eyes unfocused, "that disaster struck twice in one day. Seems awfully coincidental to me, and just when public sentiment was swinging in our direction." She sighed heavily. "Maybe the committee needs to sit down and rethink things." Her eyes swung to the bandage on Maggie's face. "I don't want you going anywhere near that place in the meantime," she said. "Just stay away from there."
"Can't." Maggie poured cereal into a bowl. "I have to go over there next Saturday. They're taking the statue of Lady Justice down, and Ms. Gross wants the peer jury there."
"After what happened to you last night, she couldn't
Maggie was beginning to, and the knowledge made her weak and watery inside. If she hadn't eaten the hot dog, would she still have felt sick enough to leave the room? Gingerly fingering the thick gauze bandage on her cheek, she asked if there were other, more serious injuries.
"Don't know," Alex answered. "Lots of people in the barbecue line were knocked silly. I don't think anyone was killed, though."
Maggie gasped.
"It was an explosion, Maggie. Someone could have died."
"Well, I'm glad no one did!" She touched the bandage again. "Everything hurts. Even my eyebrows."
"You landed on your face when you hit the floor," Helen said. "But it doesn't look that bad, Maggie, honestly it doesn't. Anyway," her voice shook again, "you're just so lucky to be alive. We were all so sure ..." Unable to finish the thought, Helen feS silent.
Feeling a pang of sympathy, Maggie reached out to touch Helen's hand. With Helen's parents gone, she relied heavily on her friends. "I'm sorry you
were scared." Maggie managed a small, shaky laugh. "If Fd known the stove was going to blow, Fd have hollered out the window that I was running to safety, so you'd have known."
Her parents came rushing in then, her mother's face pale and set, her father's brows drawn together in a worried frown. Whit signaled to the others, and they eased out of the room, leaving Maggie to be comforted by her parents.
When all of her X rays came back negative, she was allowed to go home.
She slept an exhausted sleep and woke up late, to an argument at breakfast about the restoration project.
"After what happened yesterday and last night, you can't possibly be thinking about continuing," her father told her mother. "The old courthouse has served its purpose, Sheila. Let it rest in peace."
Maggie, aching in every part of her body, her cheek and nose throbbing, sat quietly at the table as they argued. Her father had never been all that enthusiastic about the restoration project. But as always, he had eventually supported her mother's efforts to improve the community. Now he sounded adamant. "Maggie was lucky yesterday and she was lucky again last night. Next time," he pressed, "her luck might run out."
Maggie was glad she hadn't told them about the gavel. Not that it had anything to do with the explosion last night, but her dad was already so upset, he'd go ballistic if he heard that someone had
brought a nasty message right here to this very house.
"Give it up, Sheila. YouVe got the damage from the explosion to deal with now, as well as all the other problems. Who knows what might happen next?"
"That explosion was a fluke," Maggie's mother argued. She was standing beside the kitchen sink, sipping orange juice. "A defective gas line. Just one, Martin. We'll have all of the old lines replaced. We had planned to do that anyway. And we always intended to get rid of that horrible little kitchen." A frown appeared. "But you could be right. Not about the damage ... we could fix all of that. But about not knowing what might happen next. It does seem odd, though," she mused aloud, her eyes unfocused, "that disaster struck twice in one day. Seems awfully coincidental to me, and just when public sentiment was swinging in our direction." She sighed heavily. "Maybe the committee needs to sit down and rethink things." Her eyes swung to the bandage on Maggie's face. "I don't want you going anywhere near that place in the meantime," she said. "Just stay away from there."
"Can't." Maggie poured cereal into a bowl. "I have to go over there next Saturday. They're taking the statue of Lady Justice down, and Ms. Gross wants the peer jury there."
"After what happened to you last night, she couldn't
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