“I’m sorry to just show up like this,” Janet said.
“I’m glad you did,” Rose said. “Sit, sit.”
Janet chose the end of the floral-patterned couch and took her first good look at Rose Bower in the daylight. She looked even thinner and more frail than the last time. Janet reminded herself that the woman standing before her was roughly the same age as her own parents-about sixty-because anyone else would have guessed she was closer to eighty. Deep lines creased her face-did she smoke? — and her hair looked thin and brittle, brushed back into place and held by a series of bobby pins. A gray housecoat hung loose on her body, and when Rose sat down- resuming her spot in a recliner near the couch-she let out a long breath, as though the effort of standing up and opening the door and the curtains had cost her a great deal. She didn’t offer to get Janet anything.
“Are you looking for Michael?” Rose asked.
“I am. But I was also hoping to see you.”
“He’s not here, Janet. I don’t know where he is today.” She pointed vaguely toward the front door. “He said he had some business to attend to, but he didn’t tell me what it is.”
“Is he looking for a job?”
Rose’s face brightened considerably. “Do you think he might be? Here in Dove Point?”
Janet wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to give Rose false hope that her son might be home to stay. Janet knew well the difficulties of false hope.
“I don’t know, Rose,” Janet said, scrambling. “How are you doing?”
Rose smiled without showing her teeth. “I’m okay. I’m doing okay. I don’t work. I don’t do much, to be honest.”
“The house is clean.”
“I manage to do that. It’s an old habit I can’t let go of.” She looked around the small room with pride. “How have you been? You must be working still. Or did you…?”
Janet caught her drift. “No, I’m not married. I still work at Cronin. I manage the dean’s office. I’ve been doing that the last three years.”
“And your daughter? Ashleigh, right?”
“Yes. She’s good. She’s very smart, and she knows it. She’s fifteen, and I imagine she’s as challenging as any fifteen-year-old can be.” Janet paused a moment thinking of all she had to protect Ashleigh from. Not just the usual stuff, but all the other things like the man from the porch. Janet had been crazily vigilant in the house the previous two days, making sure every door and window was locked. “We moved back in with my dad. He lost his job.”
“He did? You mean Strand laid him off?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. He was a company man. I thought he’d be there forever.”
“Times change,” Janet said. “Anyway, we’re all together in the old house now.”
Janet expected Rose to comment on that, to offer something about the good old days, but she didn’t. Maybe Rose wished she could have the same thing-Michael move in for good, a grandchild or two to look after and celebrate.
“Have you seen Michael since he’s been back?” Rose asked.
“We had coffee the other night. We just talked.”
“I kept telling him to call you when he came back, but he must have taken his sweet time. You were always such good friends. To be honest, I always hoped the two of you would…you know, get together at some point.”
Janet’s face flushed. She looked away for a moment.
“I’m sorry if I was rude-”
“Oh, no,” Janet said. “It’s not that.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I embarrassed you.”
“It’s okay, Rose.” Janet looked back and smiled. “I always hoped the same thing when we were in high school.”
“I could tell. He had all those girls following him around. His groupies, I used to call them. He liked a certain kind of girl, you know. The showy ones, the wild ones. And there was the best one right under his nose. You.” She paused. “You don’t ever hear from that Tony Bachus, do you?”
“Not much. He sends money for Ashleigh when he can. Or when he feels like it.” Janet waved the thought of Tony away with her right hand. “I haven’t needed him.”
“You haven’t, that’s right.” Rose mirrored Janet’s gesture of dismissal. “He was never any damn good. I don’t even know why Michael was friends with him. He hung around with some real dolts in his time.”
Janet laughed.
“You know,” Rose said, “I sometimes wonder if he’s gotten any better. Did he tell you anything about what he was doing in Columbus?”
Janet recognized the position she was being put in. Rose wanted information, and since she didn’t think she could get it from her son, she intended to pry it out of Janet. Janet had to applaud the strategy. If Ashleigh brought any of her friends around, or if her few friends-besides Kevin-were less reticent and angsty, Janet might have used it herself.
“I thought he was working there,” Janet said.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I think he asked his dad for money a few times,” Rose said. “I don’t know, but that’s the impression I got.”
“Didn’t he lose his job?” Janet asked.
“Sure. But I don’t know when. I thought maybe you did.”
“We didn’t talk about it,” Janet said. “Is something wrong?”
Rose didn’t answer. She pressed her lips tight, as though she wanted to keep whatever she had to say bottled up.
“It’s okay if-”
“This phone call came here,” Rose said. “And I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Was it about his job?”
Rose shook her head. She lowered her voice when she spoke, even though no one else was around.
“Who was it?” Janet asked.
“It was a detective from the Columbus Police Department. She called here looking for Michael. She wouldn’t tell me what it was about when I asked. She just said she’d call Michael back.”
“When was this?” Janet asked.
“A few days ago.”
A few days ago.
“Did you ask him about it?” Janet asked.
“I gave him the message, but he just grunted. Then he went outside and used his cell phone.”
“To call the detective?”
“I assume.”
Janet leaned back. “Maybe it was just something simple. Maybe someone broke into his car or something.” Even as she said the words, she doubted they were true. He’d come to her worked up about his dad’s possible role in Justin’s death-and this happened after he spoke to a detective. “It’s probably nothing,” she added, hoping her voice sounded convincing.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Michael’s never been in trouble.”
Again, Rose pressed her mouth shut.
“Has he?”
Rose reached up and fiddled with one of her bobby pins. “You know, things didn’t always go well for Michael when he was out on the West Coast. His jobs…well, he still didn’t tell me everything, of course, because he didn’t want me to worry. But he had rough times.”
“Really?”
“He tried more than one thing, more than one career.”
