“I think you should give Renée a call. See if you can go tomorrow,” suggested Lucy.
“But what about Matt? I want to support him . . .”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be relieved to know you’re safe,” said Lucy. “And he sure won’t want you visiting him in jail.”
“If he’s got any decency at all,” added Bill, who was never a fan of his daughter’s boyfriends.
“Okay,” agreed Zoe, deciding further resistance was futile, and turning her attention to her salad she speared a chunk of lettuce. “Will you keep me posted?”
“Absolutely,” promised Lucy, taking a bite of pizza. She was chewing when a Notre Dame player made a ninety-yard run for a touchdown. Realizing Bill was strangely quiet, she turned to look at him and saw that he’d drifted off, still holding the tray with his half-eaten pizza in his lap. She gently removed it and covered him with an afghan, giving him a little kiss on his forehead as she tucked it around him.
* * *
Sunday morning was busy. Bill needed help getting showered and dressed, and took out his frustration with the situation on Lucy. She’d made him a big breakfast of ham and eggs, thinking it would please him, but he snapped at her when he couldn’t manage to cut the ham by himself and had to ask for help. Zoe couldn’t decide what clothes she needed to pack for Montreal and kept appearing in the kitchen, holding up various garments and asking her mother’s opinion. Lucy was at her wits’ end by the time Bill retreated to the family room, where he promptly fell asleep on the sectional sofa.
When the phone rang, she was surprised to hear Rey’s voice.
“How is Bill?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“He’s doing okay,” said Lucy, taking the phone into the kitchen so she wouldn’t disturb Bill. “He’s in some pain, I think, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”
“What a terrible thing. I feel responsible. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Lucy was tempted to say that he’d done enough, thank you, and to please leave them alone, but then she remembered that his son was facing murder charges, which was much more serious than a broken arm and a few bruises. “What’s going on with Matt?”
“I believe they’re transferring him today, bringing him back to Maine for arraignment on Monday. The lawyer says there’s little chance he’ll get bail, but we’re going to try.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Lucy.
“I guess it was inevitable, given the situation, that they would try to pin Franklin’s murder on him. He’s innocent, of course, and I believe the truth will come out in the end.”
“I certainly hope so,” said Lucy.
“The reason I called is I’m coming to Maine for the arraignment, and to see Matt, and I’d like to meet with Bill about the restaurant project.”
“I don’t suppose you want to continue—” began Lucy.
“On the contrary,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m determined to go ahead, I’m meeting with the insurance adjuster tomorrow and I’d like Bill to be there, if he’s able.”
“I’m not sure,” said Lucy when Bill appeared in the doorway.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
When she said it was Rey he took the phone himself and, before she could object, had agreed to meet him at the burned-out pub first thing in the morning.
Lucy was furious. “You’re always telling me to mind my own business and to stay out of trouble,” she reminded him, “and here you’re walking right into a hornet’s nest. Maybe you should take your own advice.”
“I’m not committing myself to anything. I’m just going to a meeting,” he said, turning his back on her and shuffling back to the family room.
A series of thumps emanating from the back staircase preceded Zoe, who appeared with her enormous duffel bag, ready to leave for Montreal. “You’re sure you don’t need me here, Mom?” she asked, setting the suitcase on the floor.
“No, we’ll be fine. Give your dad a kiss.”
Zoe disappeared into the family room, only to emerge a moment later. “He’s gone back to sleep. You’ll have to say good-bye for me.”
“Okay,” said Lucy, her voice thickening. “Drive carefully and be—well, you know, it’s a big city. Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” said Zoe, laughing, as she put on her coat. “I won’t go wandering off with any strangers, not even if they’re incredibly cute and have charming French accents.”
“If only I could believe that,” said Lucy, tying a long scarf around her daughter’s neck and giving her a big hug.
She stood at the kitchen window, watching as Zoe dragged the heavy bag down the path and loaded it into her car. She paused before getting in the car and gave her mother a wave, then she was gone.
Lucy was headed down to the cellar with a load of laundry when her cell rang and she saw the caller was Zoe. “What’s up? Did you forget something?” she asked, resting the laundry basket on her hip.
“No, Mom, I didn’t forget anything. It’s this billboard. I thought you’d want to know about it. It must have just gone up, right out here on Route 1. It’s a big blown-up version of the newspaper photo of those three drug dealers that got arrested a few weeks ago, with those police ID placards that have their names on them, all Latino of course, and then in big red, white, and blue letters it says AMERICA FOR AMERICANS!”
CHAPTER 17
Bill might have been able to drive one-handed, but the fact that he was also taking pain meds meant that Lucy had to chauffeur him to the early Monday morning meeting with Rey. His truck was damaged in the blast and was in the body shop, so they went in her SUV. The sun was just rising when they arrived at the harbor and shafts of morning light filled with dancing bits of dust streamed through the burned outer wall of the restaurant. The place reeked of
