“Want some breakfast? I’ll make you an egg, French toast, whatever you want.”
“I’m not hungry,” said Sara, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
“You’ve never had trouble sleeping before,” said Lucy. “Was it because of what happened at Lake Wingate?”
“No, Mom. Nothing like that. I shouldn’t have had that glass of Coke before I went to bed, that’s all.”
“Try another one,” said Lucy, dismayed to catch her daughter in a lie. “It’s caffeine free.”
“Well, I didn’t know that, did I? They say half of the effect of caffeine is in people’s heads. I probably thought it might keep me awake, so it did.”
“Oh, Sara,” said Lucy, sliding into a chair and leaning across the table to take her daughter’s hands, “give it up. Tell me what’s going on and then maybe we can fix it.”
“I don’t think so, Mom.” Sara jerked her hands away and jumped to her feet. “You’ll just write a news story about it. How’s that supposed to fix anything?”
“That’s not fair,” protested Lucy, but Sara was halfway up the stairs. Lucy heard her pound each step, cross the landing, and slam her bedroom door shut. “I only wrote about the meeting!” she yelled up the stairs.
Unable to shake the truth out of Sara, Lucy decided to see if Frankie had any idea what was going on. She certainly seemed to have an accepting approach to teen sexuality, maybe she had open lines of communication with Renee. But when Lucy emerged from the path between her house and Primrose Path she saw that Frankie’s driveway was empty. Of course, weekends were prime time for real estate agents.
Lucy hesitated for a moment, studying the cloudy sky that was heavy with rain, then decided she might as well try Willie. She was well aware that Willie hadn’t been all that friendly lately, but she wasn’t about to go home without trying to get some answers. Besides, she had a feeling that whatever was going on might be related to Willie’s attitude towards her. Maybe Sassie had told her that Sara was behaving in a way that she found upsetting, or that Willie didn’t approve of. She went across the street and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” yelled Willie so Lucy pulled open the door and went in, finding herself in a mudroom filled with riding boots and helmets and fishermen’s waders and kids’ sneakers and rain slickers. An old popcorn tin held a collection of walking sticks and umbrellas and a variety of leashes hung from a hook.
Entering the kitchen, she found Willie in front of the sink, rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. “Oh, it’s you,” she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” began Lucy, checking out the big farmer’s table, littered with newspapers and jam jars. “I don’t know where else to turn.”
“So I’m your last resort?” snapped Willie. She was glaring at Lucy but was distracted when the little potbellied pig ran into the kitchen, squealing, chased by the cat who was in turn being chased by eight-year-old Chip. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, turning on him.
“The cat ate my cereal,” declared Chip. “I was watching Power Rangers.”
“I suppose you left it on the floor?” Willie opened the door to let the animals out. “What do you expect?”
Lucy couldn’t help laughing.
“Yeah,” admitted Chip. “But she shouldn’t…”
“Make yourself a new bowl,” said Willie, rolling her eyes at Lucy. “It’s a zoo around here.”
“I miss those days. I can’t believe Toby is all grown up.”
“I’m sure I’ll get all nostalgic some day but right now I’d give anything for fifteen minutes without a crisis.” Willie shut the dishwasher and leaned her fanny against the kitchen counter. “So what’s your problem?”
“It’s Sara and this cheerleading thing. Something happened yesterday at the Lake Wingate game that upset her but she won’t tell me what it was. I was wondering if Sassie might have said anything to you.”
“No-o-o,” said Willie, dragging out the word. “But I have been worried about her.”
“She doesn’t seem like herself?”
“Who knows who herself is,” said Willie, shaking her head. “She certainly doesn’t and I don’t have a clue. But she doesn’t seem very happy and she’s been spending an awful lot of time moping in her room. I practically have to drag her downstairs for supper.”
“Have you asked her what’s going on?”
“Sure, but she won’t tell me anything. She just gets upset and goes back to her room.”
“It’s the same with Sara.” Lucy scratched her chin thoughtfully and looked out the window where she saw Frankie’s car turning into her driveway. “Frankie’s home. I wonder if Renee’s told her something.”
“Renee’s probably causing all the trouble,” muttered Willie. “That girl has the morals of a polecat.”
Frankie was just opening her door when Lucy caught up with her. “Do you have a minute? I’m really worried about Sara and…”
“I’m in a terrible rush,” said Frankie. “I’ve got a showing five minutes ago. I only came home because I forgot some important papers.” She stuck her head in the door and yelled for her daughter. “Renee! Can you bring me that folder that’s on my dresser?”
“Sure, Mom.” Seconds later Renee bounced down the stairs, ponytail swinging, with the folder.
Frankie turned to Lucy. “I gotta run. Maybe Renee can help you.” Then she was off, tottering down the path in her high heels.
Renee smiled politely at Lucy. “Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Stone?”
Lucy looked at her. She was hardly the siren Willie had led her to expect, dressed in sweatpants and a huge T-shirt and without a smudge of makeup, not even lip gloss. Not that she needed it, not with her flawless olive skin, luminous brown eyes, and glossy black hair that fell in curls to her shoulders.
“Well,” began Lucy, “it’s about Sara. She seems awfully upset about something, something to do with cheerleading.”
“Why don’t you come in?” suggested Renee.
Lucy hesitated. As a reporter she never interviewed minors alone. She always made sure a responsible adult was present. This wasn’t an interview, she wasn’t working, but she still would have felt better if Frankie had stuck around. Still, Frankie was the one who suggested she talk to Renee. Lucy followed her down the hall to the kitchen.
“Coffee?” asked Renee. “Water?”
“No thanks,” said Lucy, climbing onto one of the stools at the island.
Renee got a bottle of water out of the fridge and settled herself on the other stool.