They got out and walked toward the house. Sara walked faster than Clay; she wanted to get in and out and be done with it. Clay was behind her. He liked to take his time and size up the place before he knocked. He said it gave him time to get into character.

The lawn was perfect and so were the flowers, all lined up in color-coordinated rows. She could see a little brick patio off to one side, decked out with a pretty stone birdbath and pots and pots of geraniums and pansies. Sara thought the place seemed safe and inviting, but at the same time, kind of fake, like a movie set. Especially since there was absolutely no one around.

Most of the houses they visited were neat and well cared for like this one, and when Sara crossed their threshold an ache would rise up inside her from some vague place. She hadn't lived in a home even half this nice for nearly five years now. Whenever she came upon one like it, she felt like she was trespassing on a part of herself she was no longer allowed to visit.

Clay gave the door a cheerful knock. Sara took a deep breath and tried to hold the familiar hurt inside.

Right away a tall, blond-haired woman swung the door open wide. The instant she saw the them, she closed it half-way. They'd washed up at a gas station but their clothes hadn't seen soap for a while.

"Yes?"

Clay put out his hand. "Hi ya, ma'm. I'm Steve Jacobs and this is my sister Jamie. We used to live here."

The woman looked at Clay's hand for a few seconds and then shook it quickly.

"Oh really? Well now, just when was that?"

She opened the door just a bit wider and folded her arms across her chest in a more relaxed stance, but her brow still crinkled with doubt. Sara thought, maybe we won't get inside. Then maybe I can stop doing this.

But Clay would have none of it. To him, every house was a challenge, a chance to perform. Even though he always told Sara the scam was only "a means to a mean end."

He turned toward the yard and pointed to the big, spreading maple that towered off to one side. "Well, you see that tree? It was about half that size when I used to climb all over it like a little monkey. We spent most of our summers here with Uncle Dan. "

The woman stepped out onto the porch with them and surveyed the tree and then looked at Clay.

"Well I'll be. You were just a kid, then?"

Clay looked to Sara. It was her turn.

"Yeah," Sara said. "We both were." She tucked her long brown hair behind her ears and from out of nowhere, brought up a smile. This happened sometimes when the person in the house seemed nice, like this lady. Sara would find herself taking a liking to them and for some reason this allowed her to lie to them even easier. Kind of like it was with her parents. She loved them like nobody's business, but that didn't mean the truth had ever passed between them much.

"I was just about eight, so I could barely get up it. It sure has grown!"

Clay wanted in. "We didn't mean to bust in on ya' like this, but we were just passing by on our way to Clear Springs, so we thought we'd come by and take a look. For old time's sake."

The woman looked at Clay, then Sara, then got that oh what the hell expression on her face, the one they'd seen so many times before, and stepped back inside the house.

"Well then, would you like to come inside? It might be fun for you two to see what we've done with the place."

Once again, Sara was home.