Bitterroot Lake, Alicia Beckman [good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

you’re proud of her. Tell her she did the right thing.”

“The principal wants to talk with all the parents—the boy’s, the trans girl’s, and us. Tomorrow afternoon. I could make it if I leave tonight, or the crack of dawn. But I don’t want to leave Deer Park while Janine is still under suspicion.”

“Can you reschedule?”

“Kim’s gonna try.” Nic leaned forward, almost pleading. Brave, smart, confident Nic. “Just don’t tell Janine.”

Then another voice interjected. “Don’t tell me what?”

 22

How had they not heard Janine come in, Holly behind her?

“You have to go,” Janine said after Sarah poured fresh tea and Holly set out cookies they didn’t touch and Nic repeated the story.

“I do, but not tonight, and not for the reasons you think. Not because supporting my kid is more important than proving your innocence. No.” Nic held up her hand. “Don’t tell me I have to choose. I don’t. The meeting can be rescheduled.”

“Your kid needs her mother,” Janine said.

“My kid’s doing pretty awesome on her own. And Sarah’s right. Being a good mother doesn’t mean fighting your kid’s battles for them, or abandoning other commitments. Tempe needs to see me fighting for what I believe in. For her, yes, when necessary, and for you.”

Sarah was almost afraid to breathe, afraid she’d shatter the moment. She snuck a sideways peek at Holly, only to see the same uncertainty on her sister’s face.

“Thank you, all of you, for believing me. Believing in me.” Janine’s gaze stopped at Sarah. “But I need to be alone for a few minutes.” She pushed back her chair and headed outside.

What about that file of clippings? “We need to ask her …”

“Let me,” Nic said. “As a lawyer.”

Holly laid Sarah’s keys on the table. “I was too out of shape for more than a short run, so I took your car into town.”

“Did you see Mom? The studio?”

“Yes, and no. She was taking a break so we took a walk. I asked about her health. She says she’s fine.”

“I’ll let you two talk,” Nic said.

“No,” Holly replied. “Stay. I believe her. She may look fragile, but she walked my tail off. I also asked if she was planning to sell the lodge.”

Was she ready for the answer? “And?”

“Turns out, she’s asked a real estate agent to come out tomorrow, tell us what our options are. That’s the meeting she was headed to the other day when I showed up unexpectedly.”

“It’s always good to know your options,” Nic said.

“Options,” Sarah replied, “mean change. And I’ve had enough change.”

“We walked by the old Lake Hotel where that café wine bar place was,” Holly said.

“Why did it close?”

“Mom said the owners got a chance to take over a bigger place somewhere else and left on short notice. The Spruce is fine, but a decent town needs more than one café. It would be perfect for Janine.”

“In Deer Park? Are you kidding? Why would she want to come back here?”

“You may be tired of change, but she’s ready for one.”

“She’s actually mentioned it,” Nic said. “Her son’s fiancée is from this area. They’re talking about moving after they get married, and suggested she move up too. She’s always wanted to run her own place, but it’s daunting.”

But if Janine couldn’t afford a new phone, she couldn’t afford to open a restaurant.

“She would never take money from me.” Sarah bit into a molasses cookie, soft and moist, sweet and sparky.

“We can figure out a way,” Nic said as Holly said “Think about it.”

She grunted. They were teaming up on her, and it might work. But they would have to step carefully. “Dinner time. We can’t expect Janine to cook for us every night.”

“Why not?” Holly said. “One more thing. Two things. I called the local vet and the animal shelter. No reports of a missing cat who fits Bastet’s description.”

“Huh. So how did she get here? She’s too sweet not to have been someone’s pet.”

“Dunno. The other thing. On my way back, I saw a car pulling away from the roadside shrine.”

“What? Who?”

“Big white SUV. Woman driving, I think. No passengers that I could see.”

Like the one she’d seen.

“Did you see where she went?”

“Down the road to the Hoyt place.”

The same rig George spotted Sunday evening, or someone else? White SUVs were popular.

“Did you know George sold some of his land, on the east end below Porcupine Ridge?” Sarah asked her sister.

“Not until Connor just mentioned it. Who bought it? And why? You wouldn’t want to live up there.”

“No idea, though it sounds like the company is logging it.” She frowned. George had not liked her suggestion that he ask Connor to clean up the storm damage on his home place. Was there a connection?

They ignored all talk of murder and suspicion over dinner on the deck. They talked kids, the lodge, the cat, old friends, old times. The good times—and most of them were good times.

No grief support group, Sarah decided. She didn’t need it. She needed this—spinach salad, perfectly done pork chops, grilled peaches glazed with thick, sweet-tart balsamic vinegar. She needed friends talking about their lives, working things out together. She had friends back home, good friends. But old friends were the best friends.

After the dishes were washed, the air had picked up a chill and they settled inside to watch night descend on the lake through the big windows. So peaceful. For a moment, Sarah almost forgot that they were only here because of tragedy.

“So tell us about this mysterious trunk,” Nic said. “It belonged to your great-grandmother?”

“Yeah. They met in Butte. Caro’s father was a bigwig in one of the copper mining companies, where Con worked. He wanted to build a business of his own and started buying land with his savings. The story is that when they got married, her father staked Con so he could grow the lumber company. That’s why they moved up here in 1916, the year my grandfather was born. Then the war came and that boosted production, which really