Free Close to Home by Lisa Jackson Page B

of warm and fuzzy recollection you wanted to keep in your memory bank. Jade had never witnessed her mother so upset, so out of control, as she had been with Grandma Arlene.
    â€œSure, we can go up there,” Sarah said, but there wasn’t a lot of conviction in her eyes.
    Gracie asked curiously, “Don’t you want to?”
    The nerd just didn’t get it. Time to straighten her out. “Mom and Grandma hate each other.” End of story.
    Sarah stopped sweeping. “That’s not true. Hate is too strong a word.” She shot her eldest a warning glare. “We don’t see eye to eye, and never have, so we’ve never been very close, but no one hates anyone.”
    Gracie picked up another jar from the cupboard and examined it cautiously. “That’s sad.”
    â€œI guess.” Sarah had picked up the broom and now swept a pile of grime into her dustpan with a little more force than necessary. “It’s just the way it is.”
    Jade yawned. “Grandma can be a bitch.”
    Sara turned on her daughter. “Don’t, Jade.”
    â€œJust because she’s in some kind of nursing home doesn’t make her nice,” Jade retorted.
    â€œIt’s a care facility,” Sarah said shortly. “Assisted living.”
    â€œShe’s still the same person she always was.” Jade looked around the room. “Why are we even doing this? I thought we were going to live in the guesthouse. Isn’t cleaning this up like a waste of time?”
    â€œJust get to work.” Sarah pointed at the filled bags that were propped against the lower cabinets.
    Grudgingly, Jade got to her feet and hoisted the first heavy plastic trash bag to her shoulder. “Where do you want these?”
    â€œThe back porch. A Dumpster is being delivered tomorrow, and we’ll start filling it with them.”
    â€œGreat,” Jade said without an ounce of enthusiasm. She felt as if she were in prison.
    â€œIt’ll be fun.”
    Like, sure,
    She started hauling the bag of trash to the back door when she heard the rumble of a car’s engine and looked out the window to see a silver vehicle roll to a stop near the guesthouse. Before the engine died, the passenger door opened, and Uncle Jake stretched out of the sedan and started toward the house. A second later Uncle Joe, stuffing car keys into his pocket, jogged to join his twin.
    â€œWe’ve got company!” she yelled and wished to high heaven she was spying Cody and his old Jeep rather than her uncles climbing up the porch. If only he would come and take her away from here before she started school at Our Lady of the River.
    She hated the idea of being the “new girl” and having the whole damn school scrutinize her.
    The thought was terrifying. Nearly paralyzing. Tears threatened her eyes, but she fought them.
    No one could know how she really felt, how scared she was.
    Not even Cody.
    Â 
    â€œWhat now?” Sheriff J. D. Cooke asked as he looked up from the pile of papers covering his desk. His newest detective, Lucy Bellisario, was walking through the door to his office in the hundred-year-old building that housed the Sheriff ’s Department. When she showed up, it usually spelled trouble. Built like a dancer, with a temper that matched her fiery red hair, she was also one of the smartest women he’d ever met, and she knew it. Lucy had been raising her hand to rap her knuckles on the pebbled glass of his door, even though it was ajar. “Don’t tell me,” he said, leaning back in his chair before she’d breathed a word. “More bad news.”
    â€œSo now you’re psychic?” she asked, pushing open the door.
    â€œDoesn’t take any ESP to see trouble on your face.”
    â€œOn top of the budget cuts and deputies out sick, the rash of cattle rustling, and the group of antigovernment types taking up residence and riling up the public, the weather service