They’d have to wait and see.
“There she is.” Monica waved a woman in her thirties over to the table Stella was sharing with her at Thoughtful Coffee. She’d spent the morning catching up on chores at home, then drove to Silver Falls to meet Monica and her friend. The newcomer had sandy-brown hair in a pixie cut that accented her expressive brown eyes and wide smile. She brightened when she spotted Monica and threaded her way through the coffee shop to join them. “Joan, meet Stella Turner. Stella, this is Joan Wexler. She works for Chance Creek Social Services.” She turned back to Joan as the woman took her seat. “Stella is organizing a fundraiser in the hopes that Chance Creek’s detox and stabilization program can be expanded to support teenagers. I really wanted you two to meet.”
Joan looked at Stella curiously. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. You really think you can raise those kinds of funds?”
Stella swallowed. She’d known ever since Monica broached the idea of her meeting Joan that the woman would probably have questions she couldn’t answer. She’d hoped to be able to field one or two before they got to the hard ones, though.
“I’m not sure, honestly. All I know is that people are dying—kids are dying.”
“Don’t I know it. Another one last night.” Joan shook her head.
“Another one? Who?” Stella asked.
“Sue Hill. A Chance Creek girl.”
“I know her—by sight,” Stella said, shocked to the core. Had she been one of the girls at the pit with Lara Whidby? Now that she thought about it, it seemed possible.
She flashed to Steel talking to them, and her stomach sunk.
“Her parents must be devastated,” Monica said. “Does the sheriff have any leads?”
“I haven’t heard,” Joan said. “Rumor has it she overdosed.”
“Just like Rena Klein,” Stella said.
“And Cecilia Foster before her.”
“We need to do something to help these kids.” She wondered what Steel knew about the girl’s death. Was she naive to hope he knew nothing at all?
“A worthy sentiment,” Joan said. “But it will take a lot of practical work to get it done. There’s a reason Chance Creek’s facility caters only to adult clients. There simply isn’t enough money to offer services to younger people. We just nearly lost the dialysis program at the hospital because of budget cuts.”
“I know, but there must be something we can do. I looked into it, and teens have to travel to either Billings or Bozeman to get a bed at a detox or stabilization program, and often they have to wait weeks. We need something local to fill in the gaps until they can get into those programs.”
“I’m not sure that would have helped Sue. It didn’t seem to me like she was involved in the culture for all that long. I’m not sure she would have accessed any programs,” Joan said.
“She was making bad choices, though. Hanging out at the pit. I think I saw her there,” Stella said, finding herself closer to tears than she cared to admit. She’d spoken to Lara’s mom, who hadn’t been pleased to hear where her daughter had been. It had been an awkward conversation. Should she have pressed Kim to ask Lara who she was with? Should she have pursued the information herself?
“Disaffection is a problem that seems small but is actually devastating,” Joan said. “I think the question we should be asking is why these girls are craving a thrill so badly they’ll put their lives on the line. What has unmoored them from their lives?”
“Hormones?” Stella suggested distractedly. “Aren’t teenagers just kind of crazy?”
“Hormones certainly can contribute,” Joan conceded, “but I’m wondering about connections. Are these kids losing their connection to the community, to their families—to something bigger than themselves? Is this the white flag they’re running up to show how much that hurts?”
“Why would it be a bigger problem now than at other times?” Stella asked.
“Times have been tough lately,” Monica pointed out. “Since I’ve been home, I’ve noticed how everyone is struggling. With parents working harder to make ends meet, there’s less time for family events. Then the drought hit… Kids pick up on despair. Maybe this is their way of expressing their fear that there’s nothing that can be done to help.”
Stella thought this through. “So they need to feel like problems have solutions?”
“And that they can help with those solutions, ideally,” Joan said.
“I knew this was a good idea,” Monica said smugly. “Put two smart women in a room together and they’ll save the world.”
“I’m not sure what this has to do with raising money to expand services for teens,” Stella said.
“I do,” Monica said. “We enlist Chance Creek’s teenagers to help with the water Olympics—I always used the lodge as an excuse to keep my boys busy and out of trouble. They had chores every day. Between that and their sports and part-time jobs, there wasn’t much time for anything else.”
“Do you think you can convince teenagers to volunteer?” Joan asked.
“We can try,” Stella said firmly. “We’ll spread the word all around.”
“I’d like to help, too,” Joan said.
“Of course.”
When their coffee date was over and Joan had headed off, Stella hung back to talk to Monica.
“Thank you,” she began. “I’m really glad to have met Joan.”
“I thought the two of you would get along. You still coming to the lodge with me for another planning session?”
“If you’ve still got the time.” More than ever it seemed important to do something to help Chance Creek’s teens.
“Of course.”
Monica pushed the restaurant’s door open and stepped outside, then halted at the sight of the rain falling.
“I’ve got an umbrella. Let me walk you to your truck.” Stella took it out and raised it. “This rain is going to make all the difference. Especially when you add it to last night’s downpour.”
“I hope it slows down a little,” Monica said as they hurried down the sidewalk.
“I hope it doesn’t,” Stella said ruefully. “We need all of it we can
