Maryland. Marlsburg was the surprising part, since it was probably within twenty miles of Abbotsville.
Jo thought this over, as Meg hung on the line with Emmy. Had Linda applied to come to Michicomi in Hammond County for more reasons than to sell jewelry? She must have known Patrick was living nearby. Did she contact him? And if so, how had that gone?
“Okay, Emmy. Great talking to you.” Meg wound up her conversation—with some difficulty, apparently, as she added several more “uh-huhs” before the final good-bye. She handed the warm phone back to Jo, looking pleased.
“Great work, Meg,” Jo said.
“Will you go see him?”
“Yes, I think that’d work better than just calling. It sounded like you knew the guy she married from school. Would you like to come along?”
Meg frowned. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t really know him. I just remembered his name and that he and Linda were a hot couple toward the end of senior year.” She cleared her frown. “If I went we might just get stuck talking about high school stuff. Look how Emmy went on and on.”
Jo thought Emmy’s easiness about sharing information had come from talking to an old classmate and would have liked Meg’s help in that way with the ex-husband. But she didn’t want to urge Meg into a situation she wasn’t comfortable with. Besides, Jo needed to remember that Patrick Weeks wasn’t just a source of information, but a possible suspect. How possible remained to be discovered.
“Oh,” Meg said, “Emmy mentioned that Pat has his own business, building custom-made furniture. That should make it easier to find him, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. He’ll at least be in the yellow pages. That’s good to know.” Jo stood up. “Thanks, Meg. You’ve been a terrific help.”
Meg smiled, and flicked a strand of hair off her face with a toss of her head, a gesture that struck Jo as perkier than her usual half-hearted hand swipe.
As she walked back to the craft shop, lunch order in hand, Jo wondered about the high school version of Meg. What had she been like then? Certainly energetic enough to be in a marching band. Slimmer? Less mousy? Apparently memorable enough to be instantly recalled by the band’s majorette. What had changed Meg over the years? An unwise marriage that had gradually beaten her down? Perhaps her husband had been the reason she held back from seeing Patrick Weeks, fearing what his reaction would be?
Jo remembered what Ruthie had said, that she thought Meg might be working on regaining control of her life. If so, Jo wished her the best of luck. Pulling your life back together, as Jo understood from her own experience, wasn’t easy, but was well worth all the effort.
On that note, her thoughts flew to Russ, the man whose recent entrance into her life had brightened it so, but whose very presence she found herself feeling so conflicted about. The shooting had certainly demonstrated how important he’d become to her. But it had also frightened her. What if she let Russ mean as much to her as Mike had, only to lose him as she had lost Mike?
At that thought, Jo halted, nearly dropping her lunch bag.
“I don’t know if I could bear that again,” she said, remembering the pain of that time.
A second question instantly came to mind: Would you not have married Mike if you’d known what would happen?
Jo didn’t have to think about that. “No, I wouldn’t have missed those years for anything. They were precious to me. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them.”
Well then?
A car horn beeped and Jo suddenly realized she was blocking an alleyway exit. She waved apologetically and hustled out of the way.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” she muttered, aware, as she continued on down the sidewalk, that she’d better figure it out.
Chapter 11
Jo was munching on her turkey and bacon roll-up at the back of the craft shop when the phone rang.
Since Carrie was in midbite
Jo thought this over, as Meg hung on the line with Emmy. Had Linda applied to come to Michicomi in Hammond County for more reasons than to sell jewelry? She must have known Patrick was living nearby. Did she contact him? And if so, how had that gone?
“Okay, Emmy. Great talking to you.” Meg wound up her conversation—with some difficulty, apparently, as she added several more “uh-huhs” before the final good-bye. She handed the warm phone back to Jo, looking pleased.
“Great work, Meg,” Jo said.
“Will you go see him?”
“Yes, I think that’d work better than just calling. It sounded like you knew the guy she married from school. Would you like to come along?”
Meg frowned. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t really know him. I just remembered his name and that he and Linda were a hot couple toward the end of senior year.” She cleared her frown. “If I went we might just get stuck talking about high school stuff. Look how Emmy went on and on.”
Jo thought Emmy’s easiness about sharing information had come from talking to an old classmate and would have liked Meg’s help in that way with the ex-husband. But she didn’t want to urge Meg into a situation she wasn’t comfortable with. Besides, Jo needed to remember that Patrick Weeks wasn’t just a source of information, but a possible suspect. How possible remained to be discovered.
“Oh,” Meg said, “Emmy mentioned that Pat has his own business, building custom-made furniture. That should make it easier to find him, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. He’ll at least be in the yellow pages. That’s good to know.” Jo stood up. “Thanks, Meg. You’ve been a terrific help.”
Meg smiled, and flicked a strand of hair off her face with a toss of her head, a gesture that struck Jo as perkier than her usual half-hearted hand swipe.
As she walked back to the craft shop, lunch order in hand, Jo wondered about the high school version of Meg. What had she been like then? Certainly energetic enough to be in a marching band. Slimmer? Less mousy? Apparently memorable enough to be instantly recalled by the band’s majorette. What had changed Meg over the years? An unwise marriage that had gradually beaten her down? Perhaps her husband had been the reason she held back from seeing Patrick Weeks, fearing what his reaction would be?
Jo remembered what Ruthie had said, that she thought Meg might be working on regaining control of her life. If so, Jo wished her the best of luck. Pulling your life back together, as Jo understood from her own experience, wasn’t easy, but was well worth all the effort.
On that note, her thoughts flew to Russ, the man whose recent entrance into her life had brightened it so, but whose very presence she found herself feeling so conflicted about. The shooting had certainly demonstrated how important he’d become to her. But it had also frightened her. What if she let Russ mean as much to her as Mike had, only to lose him as she had lost Mike?
At that thought, Jo halted, nearly dropping her lunch bag.
“I don’t know if I could bear that again,” she said, remembering the pain of that time.
A second question instantly came to mind: Would you not have married Mike if you’d known what would happen?
Jo didn’t have to think about that. “No, I wouldn’t have missed those years for anything. They were precious to me. I wouldn’t be who I am today without them.”
Well then?
A car horn beeped and Jo suddenly realized she was blocking an alleyway exit. She waved apologetically and hustled out of the way.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know,” she muttered, aware, as she continued on down the sidewalk, that she’d better figure it out.
Chapter 11
Jo was munching on her turkey and bacon roll-up at the back of the craft shop when the phone rang.
Since Carrie was in midbite
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