Free October Snow by Jenna Brooks Page B

Office.
    “Oh, yeah,” Max grinned wryly. “And the house is in the suburbs, I suppose.”
    Jo made a hairpin turn onto a narrow dirt road, just beyond a small cluster of tidy ranch houses. On the right, the bank rose up beside them as they descended, until the main road disappeared. There were several small cottages on the left, camps that were used only from Memorial Day through Labor Day, owned mostly by Bostonians who came up on the weekends.
    There was a small patch of saplings just ahead, in the center of where the road became a circle for cars to double back. Beyond the trees, at the top of the circle, a large, white New Englander appeared.
    “Wow, Jo…Wow, that’s the house?”
    She nodded, smiling. “Look behind it.”
    The lake, Max thought, was an impossible shade of blue. There was a small patch of land about fifty yards out, like a tiny island, just visible from where Jo parked the truck.
    “Are those flowers on that island?”
    “Yeah. Local legend has it that some guy, decades ago, planted them there after his wife drowned just a few feet from the shore.” Jo pointed. “See the dwarf pine in the middle?”
    Max nodded as she opened her door.
    “They say no one at all planted that tree. It was just there , exactly a year after she died.”
    “Are we trying to rent a haunted house?”
    Jo laughed. “No. Well…All of the spirits here are friendly.”
    “Terrific. I get to spend the summer with friendly ghosts.”
    They walked around the house. A massive deck wrapped from the west side of the building all the way across the back. A small dock extended about fifteen feet into the lake, a canoe attached to the post.
    “Jo, this is gonna cost a ton.”
    “Yup.”
    “Really…”
    “My call, Bim. I need this. You do, too.”
    Max was silent for a moment, studying Jo as she reached into her backpack and pulled out a small bag of corn chips.
    Jo grinned at her. “Watch this.” She threw a few of the chips underhand, as high as she could, then looked around expectantly as they landed on the sandy area just before the dock. Within seconds, several seagulls descended from somewhere–Max had no idea from where–and scooped up the chips.
    They laughed in unison, delighted by the raucous beauty of the gulls. Max thought she had never seen Jo like that, almost childlike in her excitement. For some reason that she couldn’t grasp, as she watched her she felt a sudden wave of something like regret–a sadness that she wanted very much to comprehend; then, an odd thought occurred to her: it wasn’t time yet.
    “You’re right, Bim,” she said. “We need this.” She shook off the sudden pensiveness of the moment before. “Give me some chips, and then we’ll go find Grady Simpkins.”

    Sam wandered into her mother’s kitchen, eyes lidded, stretching hard. As she bent for a few toe-touches, she noticed her mother sitting at the table in the breakfast nook with her coffee and a legal pad, making her daily to-do list.
    “Morning, Mom.”
    She didn’t answer, seemingly engrossed in her planning.
    “Coffee fresh, Mom?”
    Liz looked up, peering over her pink-rimmed reading glasses. “Goodness, Samantha. Noon?”
    “You didn’t wake me up.”
    Liz gave her a dismissive glance, then returned to her list.
    Sam was checking her phone. “Huh. I thought the girls would have called by now.”
    Liz didn’t look up. “I’m sure they’ll be in touch later. Jack called, though.”
    Sam opened her phone, frowning, checking for his number. “When?”
    “He called me around nine. He’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”
    “He called you ? Why?”
    “He was being thoughtful. He didn’t want to wake you.” She pushed the pad aside, taking off her glasses and chewing on the stem as she studied Sam. “He’ll pick you up at seven.”
    “Uh, I didn’t say I’d go, Mom.”
    “You have to. He’s your husband.”
    Sam rolled her eyes.
    Liz sighed. “Samantha…”
    “I don’t want to discuss this