mother. “Great. Just what I needed.”
May held up the dishcloth she had been using to wipe out the sink. “What’s up?”
“I have to go into school.”
“Why? Surely you’re entitled to a personal day off.” May looked around and attacked a spot she noticed on the counter.
“They’re sorry for my loss, but they’ve got an irate parent coming in at one, and Neva Llewellyn wants me there.”
“Couldn’t you say no?” May unplugged the toaster and shook it over the trash can in the corner.
“I suppose so, but after what happened at my last job I need to get sterling references from this one or I can kiss my career good-bye.”
May finished emptying the crumbs from the toaster’s trap and started polishing the chrome. “But what happened in your last school was not your fault. You did the right thing.”
Shrugging, Skye pulled out a chair and sat down. “You know I was right, and I know I was right, but if anyone calls that school system, all they’re going to be told is that I was fired for insubordination.”
Both women were silent as May finished with the toaster and plugged it back in. She finally spoke. “It’s only a little after eleven-thirty now. How about if I take you to lunch and then drop you off at school? Dad and I will bring Grandma’s car there as soon as he finishes with it.”
“That sounds good. I’m sorry you guys have to chauffeur me around. As soon as I get my insurance check, I’ll buy a car.” It was tempting just to give in and let her parents take care of her, but there was no way Skye could stay in Scumble River if she didn’t keep fighting to remain independent.
May stopped cleaning. “Skye, you know we want to make your life easier. We wouldn’t offer if we didn’t enjoy it. We do the same for Vince.”
Skye nodded. It was a fine line between accepting help she needed and insisting on doing things for herself. “Are you going to call Dad?”
“No, he won’t be near a phone. He’ll either be fixing the Buick or in the fields.” May walked into the tiny bathroom across the foyer from the kitchen.
Skye raised her voice to be heard above the running water. “You guys really need to get a cell phone and an answering machine.”
“We’ve been just fine for thirty-five years without any fancy gadgets. Next thing you know you’ll be wanting us to get a computer like Hugo talked Dante into.” May snorted. “To keep updated farm records, my eye. He just wants to play around on that Sinnernet. I heard down at the police station that pictures of naked women just pop up when you turn the machine on.”
Knowing when to end a conversation was an art Skye had picked up early in dealing with her mother. She wasn’t about to begin to explain the Internet to May, let alone pornographic Web sites. “Okay then, let me freshen up and get my briefcase. Where do you want to go to lunch?”
May and Skye slid into a mauve-colored booth. The Feedbag had recently been redecorated, and was now only ten years behind the times.
They picked up the plastic-coated menus and silently studied the multiple pages. After a few minutes Skye closed hers, but May continued to contemplate the choices.
“What are you having, Mom?”
“I don’t know. There’s too much to pick from.” May flipped the pages frantically and tears started trickling down her cheeks.
Skye plucked the menu from her mom’s hands. “You’ve had a lot to deal with in the last twenty-four hours. You don’t have to carry on as if nothing has happened.”
Her mother’s quiet weeping turned into sobs.
“It’s okay to cry.” Skye scooted around the booth to sit beside May. She put her arms around her mother. “You and Grandma were very close and her death is a shock to all of us.”
After a few minutes, May straightened and took the tissue Skye offered. “I loved her so much. We weren’t just mother and daughter, we were friends.” May wiped away a lingering tear. “It was funny. She was always in total control of everything in the house until Dad came home from work, and then suddenly she turned into a meek little lady. When he was gone she was a tiger—we’d play music real loud and sing, but when he was there we had to be quiet and make sure we didn’t disturb him.” May’s voice faltered. “It was almost as if Mom was afraid of him.”
“I really don’t remember Grandpa,” Skye said. “My earliest memories of Grandma are going to her house to help her bake and hearing about her childhood. She never wanted to talk about her adult past, so I was really surprised when she decided to tell me the family history.”
“When we hired Mrs. J, Mom finally realized she wasn’t immortal. She didn’t want those stories to die with her.”
“But they did. It was too late.” This was a side of May Skye rarely saw and she wanted to keep the conversation going. “You seem to have had a different relationship with Grandma than your siblings did.”
“Ever since Dad died, Dante’s treated Mom like a child. And he’s always whining about having to sell off
“You’re kidding!” Skye was surprised by the extent of her uncle’s self-centeredness.
“No.” May smiled ruefully. “And Mona and Minnie were always afraid of her.” May smiled sadly. “She was-n’t one to mince words and they don’t like to hear the truth.” She paused and patted Skye’s hand. “You remind me of her. Not afraid to tell it like it is.”
“I thought you didn’t like me to do that.”
May touched Skye’s face. “It’s just that I’m afraid for you. You have such a strong sense of right and wrong that you make a lot of people uncomfortable. And you never know what a nervous person will do.”
Skye glanced at her watch as she hurried into Scumble River Junior High School. It was five after one and she was late.
Just as she was about to knock on the principal’s closed door, Skye remembered. Simon was supposed to come over to her house that afternoon. He’d be ticked if she wasn’t there. She’d better call and hope she caught him before he left.
She turned back to the secretary’s unoccupied desk, snatched up the phone, and dialed Simon’s number. She got his answering machine at his house, his assistant at the funeral home, and his pager; she left messages everywhere.
It was now quarter after and Skye knew Neva would be seething. At first she frowned when no one answered her knock on the principal’s door; then she smiled and sat down. No secretary, no principal, she could easily have been waiting fifteen minutes for someone to tell her where the meeting was.
Ursula Nelson, the school secretary, rushed around the corner and came to a halt when she spotted Skye. “Why aren’t you with Mrs. Llewellyn and Mr. Doozier?”
“Where are they? I’ve been waiting here for quite a while.”
“They’re using the art room. The art teacher is sick today so it’s available.”
“Why aren’t we using Neva’s office?” Skye nodded toward the closed door.
“Mrs. Llewellyn felt it would be unwise to meet with Mr. Doozier in such a confined, windowless space,” Ursula said.
“I guess she really is afraid of him.” Skye picked up her briefcase.
As she headed down the hall, Ursula called out, “I was only gone a few minutes. You couldn’t have been waiting long.”
The small art room smelled of turpentine and glue. Scraps of construction paper were scattered on the faded blue linoleum. The windows were open, but there was no breeze to ruffle the paintings thumbtacked to the bulletin board.
Neva and Hap Doozier sat facing each other across a long table. Neither was speaking. Skye would have recognized Mr. Doozier without Ursula’s warning. He was short and skinny like his brother Earl, although not as
