turtleneck. She twisted each ring on her right hand in turn and then started over again.
“Steak sounds great,” Jack told her.
“Are you sure? I have chicken I could defrost. We still have some of that salmon in the freezer….”
“Steak is perfect. Honest. Crazy as things have been lately, a nice thick steak sounds wonderful.”
“Are you working too hard? How is Hal Stuart as acting mayor? I heard he’s a real tyrant. Is he too demanding? Are you getting enough sleep?”
Ben took his wife’s arm and led her toward the kitchen. “Jack is doing just fine, dear. Policemen don’t expect regular hours, do they?”
“Work’s not bad at all,” Jack agreed, when in fact both he and his father knew he hadn’t slept for more than six hours a night in months. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No, no. Just sit right down at the table. I’ll get the salad. Ben, will you check the steaks on the grill?”
His mother bustled around. Movement helped keep the restlessness down. Jack sat down at the table in the same seat he’d occupied since his parents had moved into the house when he was four. It was a simple three-bedroom rancher made of good, solid construction. His father had earned enough as an electrician to support the whole family. They’d been comfortable growing up, but never rich. Family vacations were generally camping in the mountains, not flying to Disneyland.
Jack had been happy, though. Ben had taught him and Tom how to hunt and track. There had been weekends fishing together, then the Boy Scouts. Tom had ridiculed the Boy Scouts after the first three years. Jack had continued on to become an Eagle Scout, however, while his father became a troop leader. Right after Tom’s death, when emotions were still too high for words, Jack and his father had gone on the Scout trips together and let the hiking sweat the pain from their pores. By nightfall, they could sit together in front of the campfire, watching the flickering flames and finding comfort in just being there, side by side, father and son, bonded by the silence.
Jack wondered if such things would’ve helped his mother. Instead, she always stayed home, shutting herself up in the house where Tom’s room became a museum to an eighteen-year-old rebel, each item still exactly where Tom had placed it nearly twenty years ago. Even now, sitting at the table, the fourth chair carried a full weight of silent accusation and guilt.
I am Tom’s chair. Don’t you remember him sitting here, throwing peas at you across the table and laughing the way only Tom could laugh? Don’t forget, don’t forget.
Betty returned with the salad. Ben followed her with the steaks. Corn on the cob, freshly steamed and rich with butter, already sat in the middle. Betty poured two glasses of milk for Jack and his father, then a glass of water for herself. Her gaze darted briefly to Tom’s chair before she sat.
They began the meal in silence, the way they always did.
“Have either of you seen Paige Summers,” his mother said at last, her voice slightly high-pitched, as if she was seeking to fill all the silent voids in their lives. “I ran into her at the grocery store just the other day. I would swear she was pregnant.”
“Haven’t seen her,” Jack confessed.
“I didn’t think she had a boyfriend,” Betty pressed. “I haven’t heard of any boyfriend and she certainly isn’t married. Last I knew, she was just starting out as administrative assistant for Jared Montgomery’s real estate firm. Imagine. This town just isn’t what it used to be.”
“It’s none of our business,” Jack said quietly. He’d met Paige Summers only once, but she seemed like a genuinely nice, sweet woman. If she was single and pregnant, then she had enough to deal with and didn’t need any undue gossip. He finished eating his salad. His father dished up the steaks. After a bit, Jack found himself asking, “Do either of you know Josie Reynolds?”
“She’s the town treasurer,” Betty said promptly. She prided herself on knowing who was who in the community.
“You ever met her?”
“I saw her at the Jamesons’ Christmas party last year. Oh, that blond hair of hers. Just gorgeous. You wouldn’t know she was an accountant to look at her.”
Jack agreed with that. He looked at his father, who was nodding.
“She’s good,” Ben said. “A real hard worker.”
Jack raised a brow. That was high praise coming from Ben, who’d worked sixty hours a week all his life to support his family, plus volunteered as a community fireman and Scout leader. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve been working with her.”
“You have?”
“Sure, I’ve been helping out with the fund-raisers. You know the community auction two weeks ago? Josie’s idea. She’s even the one who called the companies and got them to donate the computers and plane tickets. We raised fifteen thousand dollars that night.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“The big dinner and theater at the old mill? Josie’s idea. She got Grand Springs’s community theater to volunteer their play, and Touch of Class Catering to provide all the food at cost. Made two thousand off of that.”
“Oh.”
“Then this Friday we’ve got the Band, Bingo, Bake Sale coming up—”
“That I know about. In fact, I bought four tickets.”
“Good, good.” His father nodded approvingly. “Josie’s idea again. Sadie’s Sunshine called her up and said they’d like to do something to help out, and Josie set it all up. Smart woman. She really pitches in. People like her.”
“Who are you taking to the bake sale, dear?” his mother asked. She wasn’t too interested in the fund-raisers. Organizing activities taxed her nerves.
“Uh…I haven’t really thought about it.” Jack quickly turned back to his father. When his mother got on this topic, it took a hurricane to shake her off. “So you’ve talked to Josie a few times?”
“Oh, yeah, I work with her a lot.” His father was very active in the community.
“Has she ever mentioned where she’s from?”
“No.”
“What about her family? Does she talk about family?”
“No.”
“Are you going to take Josie to the bake sale?”
“No,” Jack said to his mother with probably more force than necessary. “I’m just…I’m just curious, that’s all.” He didn’t bring up her tie to the Olivia Stuart case. He made it a point never to talk about his job in front of his mother. He was still frowning, however. He couldn’t get the mystery of Josie Reynolds out of his mind. “Don’t you find it odd that she never talks about her personal life?” he persisted. “She’s hardly a quiet woman. She’s definitely not shy,” he muttered.
His father chuckled.
