Howie drove down and picked up his beloved, along with Molly O'Malley, her nine year old daughter.
Molly O'Malley was a pretty child, easily recognized as Julie's daughter with her long blond hair and beautiful eyes.
"I'm pleased to meet you," said Miss Molly as she shook each of our hands in turn.
Molly held out her hand and passed muster allowing this new person to scotch down and pat him.
Martha had brought along baby Claire and Molly was enthralled.
Martha asked if she'd like to hold the baby, thrilling Molly further.
Molly continued to hold Clair, even feeding her a bottle as Martha explained the mechanics of capturing mother's milk while the rest of us pretended not to listen.
"Molly will make a fine mother herself one day," I commented.
Molly appeared less shy around Howie than us, acting more casual toward him as if he was a member of her family.
Other than catching sight of Howie, together with Julie and Molly entering church on Sunday morning, we saw nothing more of our associate's Boston visitors.
She can't because Molly would miss school.
"Molly is asleep so we have to be quiet," she said as she led me into the living room."
With Molly, it's not easy to get a babysitter.
He loved Molly and she thinks the world of him.
Molly will find out, someone, this monster that's killing all these people; he'll find someone and force them tell.
"Molly will be awake," I cautioned.
She has Molly with her.
I was stewing over my third cup of coffee when my wife returned, with Julie and Molly in tow.
Molly, why don't you go in my office and fiddle with my computer?
Molly can stay with Betsy and me.
You'll help Julie to register Molly at the Keene school while I make the plane reservation.
The three left for the school office; Betsy, with a slight smile on her face, Molly looking excited and Julie wondering if she was dead man walking.
Once alone, I telephoned Martha and explained that Howie had summoned Julie to California and Betsy and I would house Molly in her mother's absence.
Molly held Bumpus' leash as we strolled down the wide sidewalk.
While Molly was her usual quiet self, and perhaps a little nervous, it was obvious she was excited.
Molly started to bite her lip and I thought tears would follow but Betsy grabbed her hand.
Molly smiled and the pair and dog left.
It suddenly came to mind I hadn't told them Julie was on her way west and Molly was at our house.
I jumped in and explained that Molly was at our house and Julie was on route to the Boston airport.
"Betsy is babysitting Molly who's registered at school here in Keene," I said; conveying more information I'd neglected to relate.
I could tell by her terse response Molly was nearby.
Molly was seated in our living room, reading a book when I arrived.
"I'm going to show Molly our library this afternoon," my wife said.
Molly joined him at the door.
It was fun having Molly around.
Molly helped Betsy prepare dinner.
My wife was as thrilled to entertain our guest as Molly was to be there.
No picture books for Molly O'Malley.
Betsy spoke to Martha on the phone after dinner while Molly and I walked Bumpus.
When I returned Molly was off to bed.
"I'm going to wake Molly and come over," she said abruptly and hung up.
My wife came, attired in robe, pajamas and slippers, her arm around a half-asleep Molly bound up in a blanket like a butterfly's chrysalis.
She added, Carry Molly up to the nursery; there's a cot in there.
Betsy was the first one up in the morning, followed by Molly who required some explaining as to how she went to bed in one house and awoke in another!
She elected to remain at home and play house with Molly and Claire, giving me the freedom to do business at the office without the worry of curious ears over hearing.
Betsy, Martha and Molly came by with Claire just before lunch.
Molly remained enthralled with the baby and paid no attention to what the rest of us were doing.
"It can't hurt to try," she said as Molly stepped into my office.
Molly asked from where she was standing in the doorway, holding a raft of papers.
Molly shrugged her shoulders, as if she were being scolded.