Tracy thought about the beautiful home on the expansive lawn. “You sure it’s no trouble?”
“Absolutely. My mother will be thrilled to know someone is staying there. By the way, you were on my list of people to call today. Turns out the forty-year reunion for the class of 1977 is in a few weeks, and they’re planning all kinds of events. I’m anticipating there will be a lot of people coming back to town who remember those days.”
“Good to know.”
“I can help line up interviews if you like.”
“Thanks, but I’m not there yet. And I like to surprise people.”
Tracy arrived at the Almond farmhouse just before sunset. She parked behind Jenny’s black-and-white SUV with the bar of lights across the roof and the six-point gold star emblazoned on the doors. When she stepped from her truck cab, Tracy noticed a drastic change in the temperature from when she’d left her home in West Seattle. Her truck didn’t have a temperature gauge, but she guessed from the goose bumps on her arms and the shivers running down her spine that the temperature had dropped close to freezing.
The twilight sky, a deepening blue, made it look as if an artist had brushed uneven strokes of magenta along the contours of the rolling hills surrounding the property. Shadows crept across the lawn and draped the fruit trees in gray light. Tracy turned at the sound of the front door opening, with Jenny momentarily obscured behind the screen. She pushed it open and stepped out, hesitated, and reached back inside. Lights illuminated the porch, stairs, and yard.
“I was just appreciating how peaceful it is out here,” Tracy said as Jenny descended the porch steps.
“A lot quieter when you don’t have seven kids running around the lawn,” Jenny said. “But that’s how I remember growing up. Utter chaos, kids running all over the yard screaming. We had a lot of fun when Dad moved us here.”
“Thanks again for letting me stay.”
“I talked to Mom today. She said to tell you to make yourself at home.” Jenny shivered and rubbed her arms. “Come on. I’ll show you around and get you set up.”
Tracy retrieved her suitcase from the cab and followed Jenny inside.
Jenny picked up several newspapers from an entry table beneath an ornate mirror. “Here are some articles about the reunion weekend.”
Tracy flipped open the Goldendale Enterprise and found an article on the fortieth-anniversary celebration of the Stoneridge High School state football championship to be held in conjunction with the class of 1977 reunion. A boxed sidebar listed the weekend festivities, including a charity golf tournament and a Saturday morning parade through downtown to honor the members of the football team. The dedication of the school athletic complex to Stoneridge’s legendary coach, Ron Reynolds, would take place that night at halftime of the homecoming game against rival Columbia Central.
“I’ll show you the rest of the house,” Jenny said.
The kitchen had marble countertops and state-of-the-art appliances. Jenny pulled open the refrigerator, which looked a lot like Tracy’s, mostly condiments. “Eat whatever you want, but check the expiration dates. Mom never adjusted to Dad’s loss of appetite. We’ve thrown out a lot of perishables and cartons of milk the last six months. I also recalled your not-so-healthy eating habits and took the liberty of bringing over a couple Tupperware containers of leftovers. Nothing fancy. Lasagna and some chicken.”
Jenny led Tracy upstairs to the last room at the end of the hall and flipped on the light, revealing a canopy bed, a large dresser, an antique white vanity, and a love seat angled to see out the window. Tracy set her suitcase at the foot of the bed and joined Jenny at the window.
“Beautiful,” she said. The window looked out over the property to the rolling hills. The brush strokes of magenta had merged to a single thin line on the horizon as twilight faded and night encroached. “It reminds me of the view out my bedroom window when I was a kid.”
“This was my room,” Jenny said. “Maria and Sophia shared the other room. It was a bit of a sore spot that I got my own room, but only when they wanted to use it as leverage to bargain with my parents. They were closer in age and liked sharing a room.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
They went back downstairs, to the dining room. “Where will you start?” Jenny asked.
“Earl Kanasket,” she said. “I owe him the courtesy.”
“You found him?”
“Hopefully. Last known address is on the reservation,” Tracy said. “Appears to live with the son, élan. Records also indicate Tommy Moore lives out there. If so, I’ll pay him a visit as well.”
“Give yourself a couple hours to get there,” Jenny said. “And let me know if you need anything. I can give you a tour of the town and introduce you to the Stoneridge chief of police.” Some small towns contracted with the local sheriff’s office, but some, like Stoneridge, also kept their own force. “I gave him a courtesy call and let him know you’d be in town. He has no jurisdiction, since Kimi died outside the city limits, but he tends to get his panties in a bunch easily.”
Tracy laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jenny looked to the grandfather clock in the front hall. “Speaking of panties in a bunch, I better get home and feed the kids. You need anything, you have my cell.” She handed Tracy a set of keys, and Tracy followed her outside. The shadows had reached the porch steps, and it felt as if the temperature had fallen a few more degrees.
Jenny got into her car and lowered the passenger-side window. “Call if you need anything,” she said.
Tracy watched the SUV navigate the perimeter of the property, then turn north. As the sound of the car engine faded, Tracy was again struck by the utter quiet. She imagined the sounds of a family sitting down at the table to eat, or to watch The Wonderful World of Disney after taking Sunday evening baths, which had been her and Sarah’s routine. The thought triggered a memory of her family’s unexpected trip to Disneyland, Sarah squealing on the Pirates of the Caribbean, covering her eyes in the Haunted Mansion, and the smile that didn’t leave her father’s face for three days. Their final night, as they watched the parade on Main Street, Tracy had asked him, “Can we come back, Daddy?”
“I think we’ve worn the park out, don’t you?” he’d said. “But you’ll come back someday. You’ll come back with your sister and your own kids, and you’ll make memories for them.”
That had never happened.