ALL I WANT IS HUGHThe ladder clunks gently against the windowsill, the windowpane. The sill again. In a moment, like a moon rising, Hugh’s face rises in the window.He has a chisel. Ivy laughs, and gets Newell’s cheese knife from her purse. She runs it jagging and digging along the dried paint lines inside as Hugh does the same outside. She gets hers done first, and shoves the inner window up. He jimmies more, and mimes for her to shift the metal clasps. He shoves upward on the storm window, hard.A crack, loud in the darkness. Then silence again.He grins at her, takes the weight of the storm window carefully, and disappears down into darkness again. The ladder trembles, trembles.A small cautious thud, the window planted on the ground. Then careful steps, climbing. She backs away from the sill to let him in.He knows to duck his head for the low ceiling. “A little awkward, knocking on the front door when she’s …”“… hot-tempered?”“Never hot. In a feverchill.” Hugh looks down into the garden.
