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account. She took ten thousand dollars from it before she disappeared.”
    Skye gasped.
    “And that was the last time you saw her? She never tried to get in touch?” Skye knew the answer, but had to ask.
    “That was it. To me, my mother died that day.”
    Skye gave him a few minutes to process all that had been said before she spoke. “Maybe your mom did, but Bunny is still alive. And sometimes happiness comes through doors you didn’t even know you left open.”
    Simon put his hand on her cheek. “You’re too soft-hearted, but that’s why I—”
    The moment was shattered by a loud thump, a yowl, and Bunny’s voice yelling, “Damn it.”
    They ran into the kitchen, and were just in time to see Bunny come flying out of the utility room.
    She skidded to a stop, ignored Simon, and said to Skye, “Your cat just ruined my last pair of pantyhose.” Bunny put her hand out. “You owe me five bucks.”
    Skye’s mouth hung open, but no words came out.
    Turning to Skye, Simon shook his head. “And some doors should be nailed shut, sealed behind concrete, and the earth in front of them spread with salt.”

   CHAPTER 6   
    It’s no use crying over spilt milk:
it only makes it salty for the cat.
    —Anon.
    “S onny Boy?” Bunny studied him. “It
is
you!” She flung herself into Simon’s arms. “Sonny, my baby, let me look at you.”
    Derision washed over his features, and Simon peeled her off his chest, casting her aside as if she were a piece of lint he had removed from his jacket. “What in blue blazes are you doing here?”
    “Is that any way to greet your mother?” Bunny smoothed her hip-hugging cranberry velvet skirt.
    “Answer the question.” The color of Simon’s face was beginning to match his auburn hair.
    “I came to see you, of course.”
    “How did you find me?” he asked flatly.
    “I went to the old house, and when I saw you had sold it, I figured you’d ended up in Scumble River. You’re just like your dad. I never could convince him that the only differencebetween a rut and a grave was how deep it is.” She shrugged. “See, no big mystery.”
    Simon crossed his arms. “What do you want?”
    “Why, to spend Thanksgiving with my only son. What else could I want?”
    “Please.” Simon imbued that single word with a paragraph’s worth of meaning. “Thanksgiving isn’t until a week from tomorrow. Besides, what about the last twenty Thanksgivings?”
    “There’s no time like the present.” Bunny retied the bow on her midriff top. “I’m not getting any younger and …” she trailed off.
    “Never mind.” Simon rolled his eyes. “Look, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. Pack your things, and I’ll drive you to Joliet or Kankakee. You can catch a bus from there.”
    “But, Sonny, I want to spend some time with you.” She looked up at him and twisted a red curl around her finger. “I know I haven’t always been the best mom.”
    Simon snorted, and Skye sneezed. When she tried to leave the kitchen to get a tissue, Simon grabbed her hand and held tight. She blew her nose on a paper napkin and stayed by Simon’s side.
    Bunny continued as if nothing had happened. “But I’ve always loved you. And I read this article that said a real good dose of quality time is better than just plain old time. I came so we could have some of that quality time together.”
    “Look, I’m not Dad. You can’t come prancing back anytime the urge strikes you and think I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Simon’s face resembled Mount Rushmore. “If you don’t want a ride to the bus station, fine. But you aren’t staying with me, and we certainly won’t be spending any kind of time together, quality, quantity, or quark.”
    Skye shook her head as Bunny sidled up to Simon. The redhead did not know when to stop.
    Bunny put her hand on Simon’s arm and said, “But, Sonny—”
    At that moment the doorbell rang. Skye was relieved to escape to the foyer. She looked out the window.