In other words, she was going right back to the life she’d always had.
Or maybe not.
She stomped on the brake as she spotted April, the youngest of Roni’s stepchildren from her former marriage, coming out of the store where she worked—Merkley’s Mercantile. Although they were only two years apart and had gone to school together, they generally averted their eyes and passed each other without speaking. Loyalty demanded that Claire side with her family, and Roni was part of that. But the confrontation she’d had with her stepmother yesterday made her more curious than she’d ever been. If she was hoping to reconcile with Tug and Roni after only twenty-four hours, how could April hold a grudge for years and years? Even April’s ex-husband hated Roni. What could she have done that was so bad April would prefer to have no mother? Roni had been difficult in some respects, but there’d also been times, a lot of them, when Claire felt quite close to her.
As she parked, April’s eyes flicked toward her, but obviously assuming it was one of those accidental encounters they muddled through by ignoring each other, she lifted her chin and marched on.
Claire wasn’t sure she could get April to stop, let alone speak to her, but she decided to give it a try. She would’ve approached her long ago if she hadn’t been so worried about what April might say. April believed Roni was the reason her father had committed suicide. Claire already knew that. But she wasn’t convinced it was true, and she didn’t want to risk letting April change her opinion. She also had to worry about what Roni might do if she found out Claire had gone behind her back. If she wound up estranged from her stepmother, she’d be estranged from her stepfather, too. They came as a package.
But the way Roni had acted yesterday… It made Claire fear she’d remained blind for too long. If she wanted the truth, she had to look under every rock, even the ones that might be hiding something unpleasant.
She parked and climbed out, but by then April was halfway down the block.
When she realized who was coming up behind her, April veered toward the curb, planning to cross to the other side, just as Claire had seen her do to avoid Roni.
Throat so dry she could hardly speak, Claire swallowed hard and called out, “Wait!”
April glanced over her shoulder. She’d heard. Twelve-year-old Johnny Goodman was the only other person nearby, and he was practicing skateboard tricks. Clearly Claire was speaking to her, but April didn’t stop walking.
“April! I want to talk to you.”
This time she paused, but her rigid posture telegraphed her displeasure at being hailed. “That doesn’t mean I want to talk to you,” she said. “I have to get my kids from day care.”
“Can’t you…wait a second?”
“Why?” she said with exasperation. “What do you want?”
Claire let out her breath in a rush. “I was hoping…I was hoping we could…have a discussion.”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “About what?”
Suddenly even more afraid that Roni or Tug or even Leanne would see them, she licked her lips. “About Roni, of course. What else?”
“I don’t have anything to say about her.”
She checked for traffic, but Claire caught her arm before she could step off the curb. “Please? Will you sit down with me for five minutes? Can your kids wait that long?”
Her gaze riveted on Claire’s hand long enough that Claire, embarrassed at touching her, released her grip. Then April scanned the shops closest to them as if she expected Roni to step out from one of the doorways. “It’s just you? For real?”
“It’s just me.”
“Why? What could you possibly want to hear me say?”
Would someone tell Roni? Should she drop this? Walk off? Part of her wanted to, but the other part demanded she stay. “I’d like to know what you have against her, why you—” she hesitated to bring up the death of her father “—hate her so much.”
“That’s personal.” She hurried into the street and Claire supposed that would be the end of it, but April slowed before reaching the other side and turned.
They stared at each other for several seconds—until a car honked at April. She jumped out of the way so it could pass, then walked back.
When she was close enough to speak in a normal tone, she said, “Where do you want to go?”
Claire hadn’t thought that through. She pivoted to see what restaurant might be closest, but April shook her head when Claire indicated Big Sky Diner at the end of the block. “If you don’t want to be seen with me, why would we go to a public place?”
Apparently, Claire’s concern about maintaining some privacy was more visible than she’d realized. “Do you have a better idea?”
“I’ll put off getting the kids for a half hour. Meet me at my house. Do you know where that is?”
Scarcely able to believe she was going to the home of her stepmother’s nemesis, a place she’d always ignored as completely as she usually ignored its occupant, she nodded.
“See you there,” April said, and hurried off.
14
Dust motes swirled in the late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the window. Claire watched them shimmy above the table as she sat in April’s kitchen, awaiting the glass of iced tea April had offered her. Far too warm, even in her skirt, sandals and lightweight top, she shifted uncomfortably. If April had air-conditioning, she wasn’t using it. She’d turned on a fan when they walked through the living room, but it wasn’t enough.
There were other signs of cost-cutting. Drab, well-worn furniture. Sheets in place of blinds. Tattered rugs covering the wooden floor. The house itself was so old it still had a cast-iron stove in the corner. But it was clean and well-maintained and smelled like fresh paint. And it was only a block off Main Street. Grandma Bigelow, who’d taught piano lessons most of her life, had owned it for sixty years before she passed away. Now April rented it from Roger Bigelow and his son Clyde, who also owned a big cattle ranch outside town.
“I can’t believe it’s taken you so long to come to me.”
It was April who’d broken the silence, but this wasn’t even close to what Claire had imagined she’d say. “Excuse me?”
Ice clinked against glass as April put her drink down. “After what I told the police years ago, I expected to hear from you sooner.”
Claire wasn’t sure how to respond to this. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing in the case files about you or anything you said.”