by Leslie Meier
“Oh, good,” said Pam, signaling to the waitress. “Now we can order.”
Lucy felt a stab of disappointment; she’d expected a warmer welcome. “What? No hello? How are you?” asked Lucy.
“Sorry. It’s just that I’m in a bit of a hurry,” said Pam, turning to the waitress. “I’ll have my usual two eggs, sunny-side up, toast, and OJ.”
“Okay,” said Norine, with a shrug. “Regulars for the rest of you?”
“I think I’ll try one of those sunshine muffins,” said Rachel, abandoning her usual healthy bowl of oatmeal with skim milk.
“Taking a walk on the wild side?” commented Norine, writing it down on her pad.
“Hash and eggs for me,” said Lucy.
“And just—,” began Sue.
“Black coffee for you,” said Norine, rolling her eyes and finishing the sentence for her.
Lucy was about to ask Pam why she was in a hurry this morning when Rachel began one of her lectures on good nutrition. “You should eat more,” she was saying to Sue. “And you girls should switch to egg-white omelets,” she added, speaking to Lucy and Pam. “They’re much better for you.”
“You should talk,” protested Sue. “What happened to that bowl of heart-healthy oatmeal? Do you know how much sugar is in those muffins?”
“I do,” said Rachel, somewhat shamefaced, “and I want it. To tell the truth, I need some comfort food. I keep thinking about that poor girl’s bones. I can’t stand thinking that she was lying out there, all alone, just a little way from home.”
“I guess we could all use a little boost this morning,” agreed Pam. “It’s too, too sad.”
“I feel so bad for her parents,” said Lucy.
“Those searchers couldn’t have done a very good job,” said Sue.
“I don’t know how they could have missed her,” agreed Pam.
“Maybe she wasn’t there when the search parties were out,” said Lucy as Norine set her plate in front of her. Suddenly, the greasy hash and eggs and the toast slathered with butter didn’t look quite so appetizing.
“You mean she could’ve been held captive?” asked Rachel, shuddering as she broke her muffin in two. “That’s even worse.”
“Or I suppose he could’ve moved the body, too,” said Pam. “Maybe he waited, kept her in the freezer or something, until things died down.”
“What creeps me out is thinking that whoever did this probably lives around here,” said Sue, sipping her coffee. “They’re supposed to notify the schools whenever a registered sex offender moves into the neighborhood, but I’ve seen the list, and I don’t think this guy is on it.”
“I think you’re right. That was one of the first things the police did,” said Lucy. “They went down the list and questioned them all.”
“This may have been a first timer,” said Rachel, who was a psych major in college. “They usually start peeping and stalking and gradually work up to killing their victims.”
“Why do we think it’s a man?” asked Pam, and all three looked at her.
“Isn’t it always?” asked Lucy. “Women have other ways of acting out.”
“Like those female teachers who fall in love with their students,” Sue said as she flicked an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve of her tweed jacket with a perfectly manicured finger.
“What do they see in those kids?” asked Pam, whose son, Tim, was now in graduate school. “Their sneakers alone…”
“The underwear!” added Rachel, whose grown son Richie was building houses in New Orleans. “No deodorant is strong enough!”
“Those women are certifiable,” declared Lucy. “But there aren’t very many of them, thank goodness. It seems to me the real danger in high school is the other students, especially the girls.”
“What do you mean?” asked Pam.
Encouraged, Lucy began her tale of woe. “Well, Sara got asked to the prom by Chad Mackenzie, and now Ashley and Heather have started a hate campaign against her. It’s outrageous. They took a photo of her changing for gym and sent it to the boys on the football team.”
“What a mean thing to do,” clucked Rachel. “She wasn’t naked, was she?”
“No, no,” said Lucy. “She had on a sports bra and a pair of underpants.”
“That’s more than she was wearing last summer, when she was running around town in that bikini,” said Sue.
“I know,” admitted Lucy, who didn’t like to be reminded of this particular escapade. “But in her defense, she really had no idea she was causing such a sensation. But this is different, you know. She feels betrayed.”
“I don’t think any of us would willingly go back to high school,” said Sue. “It was a real low point in my life.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” said Pam, biting into a piece of toast. “Don’t forget, she is going to the prom with Chad Mackenzie. That must be some consolation.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” said Rachel. “This sort of thing is pretty typical adolescent behavior.”
“And just look at their mothers,” said Sue, rolling her eyes.
Lucy took a bite of hash, then pushed her plate away. Since she wasn’t getting the sympathy she’d hoped for, she might as well pass along a juicy bit of gossip. “I saw the most ridiculous thing yesterday. Bar and Tina were actually fighting over the last copy of the Boston Globe. Dot Kirwan had to break it up before they came to blows over a seventy-five-cent newspaper.”
“What kind of example is that for those girls?” asked Sue, clicking her tongue.
“A terrible example,” said Rachel. “This feud of theirs is getting out of control. Did you hear about what happened at the Mother’s Day brunch at the Queen Vic?”
“I haven’t heard,” said Sue. “What happened?”
“I was there,” said Lucy, going on eagerly to recount the incident.
“Isn’t that just like Bar?” commented Sue when Lucy had finished her description. “She does think she’s always right and everybody else is wrong.”
“Tina’s no peach,” muttered Rachel. “She was behind that Elder Services investigation. She thought I was helping Miss T so I could get her money!”
“Well, it worked out for the best,” said Pam, patting her hand. “Now you’re an official home health aide, and they pay you.”
“But I never wanted to get paid,” said Rachel. “And now I have to get CPR and first aid certification every year, and I have to go to all these inane workshops. All because that Tina’s a big buttinsky.”
“She does have a big butt,” commented Sue, causing them all to laugh.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Pam. “I kind of like her. She’s loud and brassy, sure, but she’s comfortable with herself, and that’s an achievement for any woman. And her heart’s in the right place. She does a lot of good for others.”
“Even if they don’t want it,” said Rachel, smiling. “At least Bar minds her own business.”
“Not exactly,” said Sue, and they all turned to hear what she had to say. “Last year Ashley was helping out at the preschool—some sort of career internship program they have at the high school now—and she told her mother we had a book about a kid who has two mothers. Lesbians, you know, but that’s never mentioned in the story. It’s a cute little book, and it has all kinds of families. Big families, small families, kids being raised by grandparents, you know.”
They all nodded.
“Well, Bar raised a huge stink over it, got a bunch of parents to threaten to pull their kids out unless we got rid of the book.”
“How come I never heard about this?” asked Lucy, unhappy at missing an important story.
“Because the last thing we wanted was publicity,” said Sue, with a shrug. “We gave her the book, and I imagine she burned it.”
“You caved?” exclaimed Pam.
“That’s awful!” added Rachel.
“It was a business decision,” said Sue. “I am not like Tina. I have better things to do than fight with Bar.”
Phyllis was opening the mail when Lucy got to the office. She still dyed her hair bright orange and polished her nails in wild colors, but Lucy thought she looked older since she’d lost so much weight. Her cheeks had lost their roundness, and her chin sagged, but she often said she had more energy and felt younger than she had in years. Lucy wondered if it was true, or if she was trying to convince herself the weight loss had been a good idea.
“What’s new with the girls?” she asked, slitting open an envelope.
“Not much. We talked about Corinne Appleton.”
“You and everybody else,” said Phyllis. “We got three letters to the editor about her.”
“What do they say?”
“Gun nuts. If she’d only had a gun, she would have been able to defend herself.”
“She was sixteen,” said Lucy. “Do they really want sixteen-year-olds running around with guns?”
“They want everybody to have guns,” said Phyllis. “Issue them at birth. Give ’em a rattle in one hand and a shotgun in the other.”
“By the way, where’s Ted?”
“Said he’d be a bit late. Has a meeting at the bank.”
Lucy’s investigative mind began to make connections, remembering Pam’s comment that she couldn’t linger over breakfast. What were they up to? She knew a lot of small newspapers were being bought by giant news conglomerates. Was Ted ready to cash in?
“Might as well start on the listings,” said Phyllis, interrupting her train of thought.
Ted arrived about half an hour later, marching straight to Phyllis’s counter and plucking a copy of the paper off the pile that was sitting there. His first look at the new issue was always rather tense as he looked for typos they had missed. Lucy and Phyllis watched anxiously as he hung up his jacket and settled down at his desk.
“Looks good,” he said, scanning the front page. “I put your interview with the bird guy right on page one.”
“I noticed,” said Lucy, watching as he flipped through the pages.
“Any irate phone calls?” he asked Phyllis.
“No. It’s been quiet,” said Phyllis.
“Well, good,” said Ted, folding the paper and setting it in front of him. Lucy and Phyllis each let out a sigh of relief. “Let’s get started on next week. Lucy, I’ve got an idea.”
Lucy groaned inwardly, putting on an eager smile. “What is it?”
“You know the prom’s coming….”
“Do I ever,” said Lucy, with a sigh.
“Some parents are planning one of those after-prom parties, where they have all sorts of fun activities and prizes to keep the kids from driving around and getting drunk and killing themselves.”
“Do kids actually go to these things?” asked Phyllis. “I thought the whole point of the prom was to get drunk and lose your virginity.”
Lucy and Ted both looked at her in surprise.
“What’s gotten into you?” asked Lucy. “Did you eat a cookie?”
“Two actually,” admitted Phyllis. “You have no idea how good a chocolate chip cookie tastes if you haven’t had one in a year.”
“As I understand it, there’ll be cookies at the after-prom party, but no booze and no sex. Good, clean fun,” said Ted, with a shrug. “I admit it, in my day, nobody would have been caught dead at a thing like that, but times are different. Last year’s party was a big success, and they’re hoping this year will be even better.”
“So you want me to write a puff piece about it?” asked Lucy.
“Yes, I do. I’ve received a special request from the organizers.”
“Who are?”
“Barbara Hume and Tina Nowak. They’re cochairs,” said Ted.
Lucy couldn’t believe it. “You’re sending me into the cross fire? Those women hate each other.”
“Maybe so, but they seem to have put their differences aside in this worthy cause. They sent me a very nice letter, and they both signed it.” He flourished a piece of flowery notepaper.
“Okay,” said Lucy, doubtfully. “I’ll go, but only if you equip me with body armor.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” said Ted, consulting his calendar. “Now, there’s a finance committee meeting this week, also planning board, and historical commission. I’ll let you off easy, Lucy. You can have the planning board, and I’ll take the others.”
“Oh, thanks,” said Lucy, anticipating a boring evening. At least Bar and Tina were bound to be interesting.
Setting up a meeting was no problem. As it happened, gushed Tina, the two were planning to meet that very afternoon, at her house. They’d be thrilled if Lucy would join them.
Lucy wasn’t exactly thrilled, but she was curious when she arrived at Tina’s ecologically designed “green” house, with its grass-covered roof and solar panels. She was standing on the front stoop, looking up at the waving sea of green, when Bar joined her.
“Amazing what some people will do, isn’t it?” she asked, jabbing the doorbell with her trigger finger. She had apparently come straight from the shooting range and was still wearing her ammo vest over stretchy beige pants and turtleneck. She must have been wearing ear protectors, but they hadn’t disturbed her hair, which sat on her head like a blond helmet.
“Come in, come in,” sang Tina, opening the door for them. “I’ve got mochaccinos for everyone.”
“Just water for me,” said Bar as they trooped down the hall to the kitchen.
“I’d love a mochaccino,” said Lucy, trying to get a peek at the living and dining rooms as she followed the others, but only getting a glimpse of kilim rugs and plant-filled windows. The kitchen was enormous, with a natural wood floor, polished concrete countertops and open shelving, instead of cabinets, that displayed a large collection of hand-thrown pottery. There were no windows in this part of the house, which was underground, but lighting created a warm, cozy feeling.
Lucy and Bar climbed onto stools at the center island, and Tina set their drinks in front of them. “Anything else I can get you ladies?”
Bar took a sip of water and grimaced. “Don’t you have bottled water? I can’t abide this stuff from the tap.”
“I stopped buying it, and you should, too,” lectured Tina. “The bottles are becoming a problem, filling up landfills….”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Bar, pushing the glass away.
“This is delicious,” said Lucy, taking a sip of her frothy drink. “So, tell me about the party.”
“Well,” began Bar, “I’m sure you’re aware that there have been some tragic auto accidents following area high school proms in recent years.”
“Not to mention other risky behaviors,” added Tina.
“So last year a group of parents decided to do something about it,” said Bar. “We formed a committee and put on an after-prom party. Some of us were doubtful it would attract the kids, but we threw in some really attractive prizes, like skateboards, iPods, even a brand-new used car donated by the Ford dealership, and it turned out to be quite a success.”
“You said ‘brand-new used car,’” said Tina, pointedly. “That’s an oxymoron.”
Lucy wondered if things were going to start to get ugly, but Bar just smiled condescendingly. “You know what I meant,” she said, with a shrug.
Tina wasn’t satisfied. “No. I don’t know what a brand-new used car is, and nobody else does, either.”
Lucy jumped in, eager to avoid another confrontation. She could sense the animosity the two women had for each other and was beginning to feel rather tense. “I’ll just put in used car,” she said. “What are the prizes this year?”
“They’re fantastic. A trip to Cancún for spring break, ski-lift tickets, a Jet Ski, mountain bikes…It goes on and on,” said Tina, handing her a list.
“Nobody leaves without prizes,” said Bar. “They all get goodie bags with fast-food coupons, all sorts of cute stuff.”
“I really think those coupons are a bad idea,” said Tina. “It would be better to g
ive them wholesome energy bars, or gift certificates to the whole foods store.”
Bar sighed. “McDonald’s and Burger King gave us coupons. The people at the health food store gave us a twenty-dollar contribution, and they grumbled about that.”
“I suppose their profit margin is slim,” said Tina.
“I happen to know the owner, Inez, spent two weeks at Canyon Ranch last winter,” replied Bar. “Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”
Tina decided to change the subject. “And we have live entertainment—the Claws are going to play—and no kid is going to want to miss it. I know my daughter, Heather, is really excited about going.”
“My daughter, too,” said Bar, turning to Lucy. “This will be Ashley’s third prom. She’s had a date every year since she was a freshman.”
“My daughter Sara is going, too. She’s only a freshmen, but Chad Mackenzie asked her,” said Lucy, unable to resist the temptation of bragging about her daughter’s popularity.
Both women turned and fixed Lucy in their sights.
“Chad Mackenzie?” asked Tina, narrowing her eyes.
“I thought Chad was taking Ashley,” said Bar, twitching her trigger finger. “I mean, I just assumed it when he broke up with Heather.”
“Since when did they break up?” demanded Tina. “Heather never said a word about it. It was my understanding he was taking her.”
Lucy was beginning to realize she’d made a big mistake and wished she could take back her boast. “Maybe he has three dates,” she said, trying to make a joke.
“I don’t think so,” said Bar, speaking between clenched teeth. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“It means Heather is not going to be prom queen,” said Tina, her voice bitter with disappointment.
“And neither is Ashley,” said Bar, looking stunned.
“They’re both lovely,” protested Lucy. “They have a better chance than most of the girls.”
“Not anymore,” said Bar. “Chad will definitely be king.”
“He’s the most popular boy in the school,” agreed Tina. “And chances are that his date will be queen.”
Lucy was stunned. Sara? Prom queen? She was hardly able to wrap her mind around the idea when Bar pounced. “I’m sure you’ll want to share in her triumph,” she said, wrenching her mouth into something between a smile and a grimace. “Don’t you want to see her in her crown?”
