by Traci DePree
“I’m just teasin’ you, Missus Hanlon.”
She smiled. “Actually, I’m looking for someone and thought since you’re the one who handles the funerals in town, you might be able to recall any women who died and left a husband with young or teenage children.”
She glanced at the photo again, and then she realized who it was. Arlene Jacobs. The young woman who worked as a part-time cashier at Sam Gorman’s Mercantile. The unfamiliar setting had thrown Kate off. She hadn’t considered Arlene, but the young woman was about the right age, was familiar with Kate and Paul, and could have heard more about them through Sam.
“Recent deaths?” The man stroked his leathery chin with his forefinger and thumb.
“I’m not sure.”
“Now, this is curious, Missus Hanlon. What are you digging for? Someone’s long-lost relative? You’re not giving me a whole lot to go on.”
“I don’t have a whole lot to give you,” Kate said. “They would be residents of Copper Mill, I think. Are you related to Arlene?” She pointed to the picture.
Malcolm ignored her question. “What’s this for?” He leaned forward, his gaze scrutinizing.
“It’s personal,” Kate said. Then realizing that the man might choose not to help her, she added, “I got a letter from the girl, and she’s in trouble. It’s imperative that I find her.”
“Well...” The funeral director scratched his balding head, then met Kate’s direct gaze. “What does Arlene have to do with it?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just surprised to see her picture.”
“She’s my niece,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “The only family I have.” He paused to scratch his chin. “Anyway, I can think of a couple people whose mothers died. But I don’t know if they still live in Copper Mill.”
“That’d be great.” Kate leaned forward in her chair. “Any leads you can give me would be appreciated.”
Malcolm stared at her. Just then the front door opened, and the sound of voices and sniffling entered the foyer.
He glanced at his watch. “Oh, rats, the family’s here already,” he said. “Tell you what, I’ll think about it and call you.”
Kate thanked him and jotted down her phone number. Then she said farewell and left Malcolm, who had gotten out a comb and was meticulously straightening what hair he had in the mirror next to his door.
As Kate passed the grieving family—a mother with four young daughters—and saw their stricken, tear-streaked faces, she realized how very frail life could be. She sent up a prayer for them.
KATE WAS HOME BEFORE THREE O’CLOCK. She’d wanted to touch base with the coordinators Max had arranged for each area of the afterprom party and find out what had been accomplished so far. Hopefully it would save them all time at their meeting that evening. While Max had been a great youth leader, he hadn’t been very organized in planning the party. Kate preferred to have things written down so her memory wouldn’t have quite that heavy a burden.
Since Faith Briar Church was hosting the festivities, Max had recruited volunteers from among their own congregation. Some people had suggested allowing the teens to manage the event themselves, but with the huge amount of work required and the many commitments of high-school life, including the prom itself, that idea had quickly been dismissed.
Kate dialed Renee Lambert first. The feisty seventy-one-year-old answered on the fourth ring.
“Kate,” she said. “I was going to call you.”
“Oh?”
“Do you want me to bring something for the meeting tonight? A pie or something?”
“I’ve got it covered, Renee. But thanks anyway,” Kate said. “LuAnne is bringing caramel rolls. I am calling about tonight, though. Max gave me a list of people he’d contacted to help with the afterprom party, but he didn’t tell me what each person’s job is or where we are in the process of getting things ready.”
Renee laughed. “LuAnne and I are in charge of food. She’s calling parents to donate cookies and cakes and that kind of thing, and I’m coordinating the hot food.”
“Okay, that helps a lot.” Kate jotted down the information. “Have you decided what food we’re going to serve?”
“Some of that depends on the budget, so you might have to tell me. Either Sloppy Joes or pizzas.”
“Perfect. I think that’s all I need for now. We can discuss the details more tonight so everyone can add their input.”
“Okeydoke.” Renee hung up.
Then Kate called Carl Wilson. He and Joe Tucker were in charge of building the game booths for the event. Carl told her that he was still waiting for the go-ahead to get the lumber, and as soon as it arrived, he’d be on top of it. All they needed were adequate funds to pay for it all.
Betty Anderson and Livvy Jenner were handling the fund-raising and publicity aspects of the event.
Since the party was a community-wide endeavor, the funds were coming in, Betty told Kate. They were planning a car wash in the near future and had sent out letters to all the families of the teenagers in town, asking for a twenty-dollar-a-head donation. People had already started sending in money.
When Kate was done making her calls, she glanced through her to-do list. One of the mothers had taken the task of finding out about game rentals and reporting back about those possibilities. Since Renee and LuAnne were in charge of the food, they would coordinate cooking, serving, and cleanup. But she would still need to find out about decorations, as well as line up the many volunteers they’d need that night to chaperone.
She ran a hand through her strawberry blonde hair and exhaled. What had she gotten herself into?
Paul buzzed in and out at three o’clock as he’d told her, and she popped some frozen lasagna in the microwave to eat before she headed to church later that afternoon to meet with the afterprom committee. She wasn’t in the mood to cook for herself.
The theme of the afterprom party, Max had said, was “Under a Starry Sky,” which coordinated with the “Evening in Paris” theme of the prom itself. Both lent themselves to soft lighting and romantic settings, though the committee had already communicated to the parents that their children would be well supervised during the event.
Just before she left for church, Kate called Livvy to check in.
“Hey,” she said. “Did you think of anything new after I left?”
“No,” Livvy said. “I’m still thinking about it though.”
“What do you know about Marlee Jones?”
“Not much. I’ve seen her at church once or twice, but she only comes with Brenna Phillips. I really don’t know her at all.”
“She was the first person Max mentioned after he saw the letter,” Kate said. “He said she was boy crazy. And whenever I’ve seen her, she’s been outgoing and bubbly. But on Sunday, she was very aloof as if she didn’t want to be there and I could see that she’d been crying.”
“I’ll see what I can find out about her,” assured Livvy.
Kate thanked her and hung up and then drove the short distance to the church.
When she pulled into the church parking lot, several other cars were already there. Grabbing her planner and notebook from the front passenger’s seat, she made her way inside. Joe Tucker was helping himself to a cup of coffee when Kate came into the downstairs kitchen.
“Hello, Kate,” Joe said. The fluorescent lights reflected on his bald head. “Want some coffee?”
“Sounds great,” Kate said, setting her handbag and planner on the counter.
Joe set down his own Styrofoam cup, then reached for another cup from the stack and pressed the coffee spigot on a large urn to fill it.
“So, how’s it feel to be youth-group leader?” he asked.
He turned to hand her the steaming coffee, which she gratefully accepted.
“I’ve worked with the youth before in San Antonio, so I’m slowly reacclimating. I’d forgotten how much energy teenagers have,” Kate confessed.
Joe grinned and gazed around the fellowship hall, which w
as filling with volunteers.
“I gotta hand it to you, Kate,” he said. “It’s an intimidating task. Kids these days can be so hard to figure, with all their gadgetry. Parents spoil ’em much more than they did in our day.”
“I don’t know about that,” Kate said, feeling his eyes fixed on her. She took another sip of her coffee. “Some kids are spoiled in every generation. It depends on the individual, doesn’t it?” She turned to meet his eyes.
Joe’s lips met in a thin line. “I s’pose,” he finally said. “All I know is I don’t envy your job.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Kate said with a laugh. “I miss Max already.”
Joe chuckled and took a sip of his steaming brew.
She wished she could ask Max about the letter again. He knew the teens so much better than she did. But his plane had taken off the previous morning. He was probably meeting with children at the orphanage that very moment, discovering what life in a foreign country was like.
Just then, Anne Jackson and the Jenner boys came in, taking seats in the back of the fellowship hall. For a moment, Kate thought of the possibility that her dear friend’s son could be the unsuspecting father, and her heart ached for what such news would mean for Livvy. Then she realized it didn’t matter if it was her friend’s son or someone else’s. The pain would be no different.
“You okay, Kate?” Joe asked, drawing her attention back to the present.
She smiled at him and patted his hand.
“Sorry ’bout that. My mind does tend to wander as I get older.”
“Ain’t that the truth!” he agreed.
Kate snatched up her handbag and planner and led the way into the fellowship hall, where people were taking their seats at the long tables. Joe followed her.
Only a handful of teens were there. As much as she’d talked it up at youth group, Kate was disappointed that more of the students hadn’t shown up. She wanted them there not to coordinate or plan the party but because she believed that if they got involved in even a small way, they’d see the many fun activities slated for the night and tell their friends.
So when Kate rose to start the meeting, she made sure to say, “Let’s do what we can to get all the teens excited about this party, otherwise they won’t come. We know from experience and statistics that parties like this help keep teens safe and protect them from making poor decisions because of peer pressure. Studies have shown that there are fewer highway deaths on prom nights since afterprom parties have become the norm. So let’s get out there and ask for more volunteers. Let’s do more advertising.”
She looked to Livvy, who gave a rundown of the fund-raising and publicity aspects of the party and what she was doing to get the word out. She’d lined up a series of ads on the local radio station, which, she added, had offered the slots for free as a public service. She was making posters to put up around town a couple of weeks before prom, as well as print ads that would run in the Copper Mill Chronicle.
Satisfied that Livvy had that aspect of the party under control, Kate glanced down at her notes.
“There’s the car-wash fund-raiser coming up. When is that?” She looked at Livvy again, and Betty, who was seated next to her.
“It’s next week,” Livvy said. “We’ve decided to have it at the library. There’s a hose hookup outside the building, and since it’s downtown, we should be able to drum up some business.”
Then Kate gestured toward Renee Lambert, who talked about the menu with her dog Kisses clutched under her arm.
“We’re going to buy pizza, not make it?” LuAnne Matthews interrupted, a puzzled expression on her face. The Country Diner waitress was still wearing her polyester work uniform, minus the white apron. “It’d be cheaper to make it, or the Country Diner could cater, couldn’t we?”
Renee made an impatient sound in the back of her throat as she looked from LuAnne to Kate. “Teens do not want Country Diner food! And if you want to go to all the work of making pizzas...I suppose we can do that. But it seems silly to me.”
Kate raised a hand to halt the impending argument. “Let’s do a cost comparison,” Kate said. “Can you take care of that, Renee?”
Renee sniffed indignantly, then gave a reluctant nod.
ONCE THE MEETING HAD ADJOURNED, James Jenner came up to Kate. He was a stocky boy, with hazel eyes like his mother, and dark curly hair like his father.
Kate wondered if Livvy had had a chance to talk to him yet.
“What’s on your mind, James?” Kate asked.
“I just wanted to let you know that some other kids were talking about helping out.”
“Oh,” she said. “That’s good.”
“Some of them were busy, so they couldn’t make it tonight, and I’ll see if I can recruit some kids from the baseball team too.”
“That would be awesome, James.” Kate patted his thick shoulder, and the boy smiled. It was a winsome smile, handsome, and Kate thought it wouldn’t take a whole lot for a pretty girl like Anne Jackson to fall under its spell.
Chapter Five
As Kate was pulling into her driveway at seven o’clock that evening, her cell phone buzzed to life. Digging in her handbag, she found the gadget and pushed the Talk button.
“Is this Kate Hanlon?” asked the whiny voice on the other end of the line.
Kate instantly recognized it as Malcolm Dekker’s and hoped the funeral director had some information for her. Her thoughts flitted to Arlene Jacobs, the girl in the photo on his desk.
“Malcolm,” Kate said. “How are you?”
“I don’t have time for chitchat, but I wanted to let you know that I thought of a few people whose mothers died, leaving the father to raise the children alone. Mind you, it wasn’t recent. Were you looking for something more recent?”
“Not necessarily,” Kate said.
“Riley Waters lost his wife about two years ago. He had three teenage daughters.”
“Really?” Kate straightened in her seat and reached for a pen in her handbag to write down the names.
“Then there were the Joneses on Sweetwater Street. Maridee was the mother. Do you know them? The dad was David. It was ten years ago. But the mother died in an accident at the old mill. It was a grizzly affair, had to have a closed casket. But they had one daughter—Marla or Marva, something like that.”
Kate was stunned. Jones. Did he mean Marlee Jones’s mother? By the time Kate was ready to confirm the name, Malcolm was saying, “Well, I have flowers at the door and a makeup job to start, so I’d better go.” Then he clicked off.
Kate stared at the receiver and made her way into the house. Why hadn’t she known that Marlee was motherless? Even Emma hadn’t known. Wouldn’t it have come up? But then it had been a long time since her mother had died. Perhaps Marlee assumed that everyone knew, or maybe it was so private and painful that she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Either way, the girl had masked a very deep hurt.
What other hurts had she hidden?
WHEN KATE CAME IN, she found Paul reclining in the liv-ing room, with soft music playing and a book in his lap. He lifted his head and gave a little wave, then went back to his story.
Kate pulled out the pink envelope from her purse and read through it again. Then she went into the bedroom to call Livvy at home. Livvy picked up on the first ring.
“Jenners’,” she said.
“It’s me again,” Kate said. “I think it’s possible that Marlee Jones’s mother passed away.”
“Really?”
“Malcolm told me that someone died ten years ago in an accident at the old mill, and it sounded like it could be her.”
“That’s horrible,” Livvy said. “But I wonder if there are any stories about it in the archives.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Kate said. “I’ll look up the obituary for David Jones’s wife. Her name was Maridee.”
“That sounds like a good place to start. Oh, by the way, I talked to the boys,” Livvy went on. “They mentioned a few cou
ples at school where the boy is older than the girl. Marlee Jones does have an older boyfriend, and so does Lauren Clark. Lauren’s boyfriend is in Austria as a foreign-exchange student this year.”
“Hmm,” Kate said, “he probably would’ve left at the beginning of the school year, right? That’s almost seven months ago...”
“Good point.”
“Justin mentioned that Marlee does a lot of posting on FriendsForever.”
“What’s FriendsForever?” Kate asked.
“It’s one of those Internet social networks. All the kids have a page. My boys are on it most every day after their homework is done.”
Kate didn’t remember ever hearing of the site, which made her feel out of touch. Yet a Web site like FriendsForever might be very helpful in learning more about the girls in town. Her thoughts turned back to James.
“Um,” Kate began, conscious that she was about to ask a delicate question. “What do you know about Anne Jackson?”
“Anne? Well...wait...what are you suggesting?” Livvy’s tone became defensive immediately.
Kate suddenly felt sorry for mentioning it.
“I didn’t mean any—” Kate tried to say, but Livvy wasn’t finished.
“James is not that kind of boy, Kate.”
“I know he’s not. I’m sor—”
“You know, sometimes, Kate Hanlon, your sleuthing can go too far. You can’t just go around town suspecting people. I can’t even believe you would suggest such a thing.” Then she hung up.
Kate stared at the receiver, which started beeping in her hands. What had she just done?
The reality of how very delicate this situation was came at her full force. Livvy was right. If she went around town asking teenage girls if they were pregnant, it would ruffle a lot of feathers, maybe even sever relationships. She closed her eyes as a wave of sadness fell on her, then she placed the receiver back in its cradle.
She felt awful. Should she call Livvy back? She covered her face with her hands.
AN HOUR LATER, Kate could stand it no longer. She picked up the phone and dialed the Jenners’ number. Someone picked up the receiver, and Kate said, “Livvy?” before the person could speak.
