Free Alpine Icon by Mary Daheim

unfamiliar sound. “Hell, Emma, isn't it time you got over all that Catholic guilt shit?”
    “I don't do guilt,” I snapped. “I don't even understand it. That's what confession's for. Guilt stinks.”
    Leo gave a disbelieving shrug. “If you say so. Hey, I've got to get back to work. All things considered, we're pretty fat for this issue. If not a raise, maybe a Christmas bonus?” He had stood up and made as if to cuff my shoulder, but his hand fell away. “See you, babe.”
    I ate hurriedly, which is an occupational hazard. I felt just a little furtive, sitting alone in the Venison Inn's bar at midday. Like most of Alpine's buildings, the place wasn't air-conditioned, but it was much cooler than outside. Still, I resisted the urge to linger over a second Pepsi. Without food to accompany the beverage, I might be tempted to buy a pack of cigarettes from the machine next to the rest rooms.
    I arrived at St. Mildred's Parochial School just before one-thirty. The main doors were locked, but the office was open. The school secretary's desk was vacant, but before I could wander out into the hall, Veronica Wenzler-Greene called to me from what I presumed was the supply room.
    “I'm checking the new textbooks,” said Principal Ronnie, brushing dust from her beige blouse. “We're introducing a new math curriculum for fourth through eighth grade this year. It's very exciting.”
    “Wonderful,” I said, trying to exude enthusiasm. In my opinion, math was about as exciting as grout buildup. “Carla's including that in her back-to-school story, I imagine?”
    Ronnie nodded with a jerky motion as she led me intoher office. She was a tall, sharp-featured woman in her early forties whose sandy hair was cut close to her head. Her mother had been a housekeeper; her father, a mill-worker. Ronnie's ex-husband, Gerry Greene, was a network technician for US West. The hyphenated name, according to Vida, was the result of a scholarship to Loyola Marymount in Los Angeles. Apparently, the Jesuits had taught Ronnie to think for herself—or like a Jesuit, which may or may not have been the same thing. I wondered why she hadn't lopped off the Greene after lopping off Gerry, but perhaps she thought the hyphen added importance.
    “Carla should have most of our plans for the coming year,” Ronnie said, sitting down behind her orderly desk and offering me one of two molded plastic chairs which I assumed had withstood the depressed forms of various sets of anxious parents. “I honestly don't see what more I can tell you.”
    My gaze darted around the room, which was decorated with cutouts of autumn leaves, photographs of previous graduating classes, Ronnie's framed doctorate from Washington State University, a picture of her with the current archbishop, a crucifix, and a statue of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
    “I'm interested in the school-board vote,” I said. “I understand the need to add members because three isn't really representative.” Noting Ronnie's quizzical expression, I went on quickly. “That is, with a hundred and forty-some children enrolled, you'll have a better cross section with five members, right?”
    Ronnie nodded sagely. “That's our hope. It should have been changed years ago. I've been lobbying the parish council ever since I became principal. Having been away from Alpine for so long, I'd forgotten how hidebound people can be in small towns. Luckily we have some new blood, and there will be more when thecommunity-college faculty is in place. I hear they're about to appoint a president.”
    That was more than I'd heard. Silently I cursed Carla. If the rumor had reached her, she hadn't confided in me. Feigning knowledge, I moved on to the matter at hand. “What do you hope to accomplish with the additional membership?”
    Ronnie rolled to one side and then the other in her padded swivel chair. “Excellence, of course. Education for the twenty-first century. Graduates who can compete on the highest level for