do something, Crystal isn’t going to be there. She left the pizza place with a sleazy guy none of us like. He’s a junior and has his own car, but it’s a piece of junk I wouldn’t be caught dead in. I don’t know what she was thinking. Alecia can usually talk sense into her, but not last night. Bethany sent me a text this morning that Crystal ended up at the guy’s house all by herself. Her parents had to go pick her up.”
“Was she hurt?”
Megan gave Amy an incredulous look. “He didn’t beat her up, if that’s what you mean. The guy is a jerk, but he’s not some kind of psycho.”
Amy didn’t want the flow of information to stop. Megan took a big bite of sandwich.
“I was hungrier than I thought,” Megan said when she swallowed. “And don’t worry about me. I want to have fun, but I’m not going to do something stupid like Crystal. You didn’t have to send Dad to spy on me.”
“I didn’t. Your father cares about you.”
“It was Dad’s idea?” Megan asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Megan nodded.
Amy was mystified why it would be bad if she suggested parental surveillance but Megan could accept it if it was initiated by Jeff. She decided not to try to solve that conundrum.
“What will Crystal’s parents do to her?”
“Probably ground her for a month, but it won’t last.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’ll wiggle out of it.”
Megan finished her sandwich.
“I’m going to take a hot bath and wash my hair,” she said, “then read in my room. I have a book report due on Tuesday, and I haven’t finished the book.”
“What are you reading?”
“ The Lord of the Flies . Have you read it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m at the part where Simon gets killed because they think he’s the beast.”
“It doesn’t get any happier.”
Megan left the room. Amy thought about Golding’s novel. Beneath the thin veneer of civilization, human nature could be murderously sinister.
seven
O n the Monday before the Thanksgiving holiday, Jeff lingered at home after the children walked out of the house to catch the school bus.
“Have you gotten an idea for a new book yet?” he asked as he poured a second cup of coffee.
Amy, still in her pajamas, was standing at the sink scrubbing the skillet Jeff had used to cook bacon and scrambled eggs. She turned off the water and faced him. She’d thought a lot about the fading flower verse from 1 Peter, but nothing had bubbled to the surface. She was starting to get frustrated, and Jeff bringing up the subject didn’t help.
“No, and I’m expecting a call from Bernie Masters asking me the same thing. You know I can’t force it; I have to wait on the Lord and trust him. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Jeff shifted in place.
Amy waited. There was no subtlety in her husband. His ability to hide his thoughts and feelings was nonexistent. Usually Amy considered that a blessing. She’d much rather know what was going on inside his head than be left wondering.
“While you’re on hold with the writing thing, would you consider talking with Ms. Burris? I’m doing the final inspection for the job at her house this morning, and I’d like to mention it to her.”
“Working as Ms. Burris’s maid isn’t what I want to do,” Amy saidflatly. “You may not have noticed, but I’ve been slaving around here for the past two weeks getting the house cleaned up for the holidays. I don’t want your mother to be embarrassed about the woman you married when she and your father come for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“She likes you.” Jeff paused. “It’s your mother who sets her off.”
“And we’ve solved that problem by telling my mother she can’t come until Saturday.”
Jeff took another sip of coffee. “Amy, I can’t get the thought of you helping Ms. Burris out of my mind. How well did you know her when you worked for the law firm?”
“Not very well. We talked on the phone a few times when she needed to set up an appointment to see
Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci