.." I said letter my words taper off. "Does he still paint?" I asked."No, he developed Parkinson's disease a few years ago, that put an end to his car...er," she said sadly."Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that, he's extremely talented; what a shame he can't share more of it," I said. I looked at the two paintings; I was trying to make up my mind which one to buy; they were both beautiful and just the thought of one hanging on my wall at home raised my spirits a little. I finally picked one."I'll take. Stay down."Finch leaned against the counter next to his sister while the woman peered over the sink and looked out into the early-morning light. Whatever was wrong had Panthea very nervous as well.The woman looked around, grabbed a heavy sack from the counter. "Take this." She thrust the bag into Finch's hands. "Food. Supplies. We'll need it. We may need to make a run quickly. Be ready!"Finch was nearly overcome with fright, his hand shaking, nearly fumbling the bag. Panthea wrapped her fingers. More

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