The Passing Storm(10)

Dust covered the table’s dark surface. The relic was too painful for either Rae or Connor to approach.

Ghosts from the past did not intimidate Kameko. Taking the lead, she dashed forward. Before the pyramid of glass, three plastic tables stood in a bright row with a houseplant on top of each one. The tables were blue, green, and pink: Rae had purchased the toy furniture at a New Year’s Day sale. Even if her verve for life was missing, she couldn’t resist lavishing gifts on her friend’s daughter.

A yellow pail sat beside the tables. A plastic trowel was thrust into the potting soil.

The child scooped up a shovelful of dirt. She threw Rae an accusing look.

“Auntie Rae, they’re hurting.” Kameko shook a layer of soil around the first plant, a yellowing ivy. She patted it down.

“I did water them, bean sprout.”

“When?”

“Last week. Or two weeks ago.” Between the new hires at work and concern over Quinn Galecki, she wasn’t sure.

“Did you feed them? Mommy says plants get hungry, just like little girls.”

“Those plant spikes? I thought I’d wait, let you do it.”

Yuna appeared with the toy watering can Rae kept beneath the kitchen sink. She handed it to her daughter. “Sweetheart, give them each a good soaking.” She’d also brought along baking sheets to set beneath the houseplants.

With Kameko suitably occupied, Rae steered Yuna out of earshot. “What’s going on? You’re here, you’ve got something to say . . . and I’m getting a bad vibe. Like, whatever it is, you don’t want to tell me.”

“I don’t want to upset you.”

“Great. That makes me feel better.”

Yuna scraped the glossy hair from her brow. “It’s about Night on the Square,” she said.

Each year the city hosted the June fundraiser; Rae and Yuna usually worked on a committee together. The adults-only event featured drinking and dancing in Chardon Square’s center green. Several local restaurants served appetizers and light desserts. As the mayor’s wife, Yuna often chaired the committee of her choice. This year’s event would fund upgrades for the high school technology department.

Rae cocked her head to the side. “I’m already signed up.” She’d done so months ago. “Are you nervous I’ll bail on you? I won’t. All my other commitments are in the trash bin, but I’ll help with the fundraiser. The event is important to you.”

“And I appreciate it, Rae. This year, we’re handling the publicity. I signed us up this morning.”

“Great. I’m ready whenever you are. Should I get design quotes for the graphics?” Searching for her lost verve, Rae added, “The new quick-print shop has opened on Cherry Street. Nice woman, from Shaker Heights. She’s having the Witt Agency handle the business insurance. Let’s have her bid on the flyers. Keep it local, if possible.”

“Sounds great.”

“Yeah? Then why do you look nervous?”

Yuna smiled, but the merriment didn’t reach her eyes. “Because I am.” She clasped Rae’s hand, as if to steady her. “The committee has new volunteers. A last-minute thing, and we could use the help. There’s extra money in this year’s budget for the event. Both of the women have the connections to further our reach.”

A terrible intuition drew Rae back. “Who volunteered?”

“Sally Harrow and Katherine Thomerson.”

The news kicked the air from Rae’s lungs. Sally’s daughter and Katherine’s were ninth graders at the high school and best friends. The girls were inseparable. Their mothers were part of the loose social group of women active in the PTA and local campaigns benefiting Geauga County. Rae wasn’t close to either woman; in the past, their interactions had been cordial at best. Since the tragedy last October, she’d been steering clear of Sally and Katherine, and their popular daughters.

“Rae, I’m sure they volunteered because, well, you’ve been avoiding them.”

“I’ve been avoiding everyone. Except you.” She watched Kameko stroke the spider plant like a favored pet, then kiss a wilting leaf. “And the bean sprout.”

“Which is totally understandable, but Sally and Katherine feel terrible. We all do. Avoiding them only makes this worse.”

The remark was absurd. From the onset, the situation was beyond repair. When the PD had called Rae that October night, she’d lost everything. Nothing could make it worse.

“I don’t care, Yuna. Keep them on the committee. I’ll stand aside.” A sea swell of emotion pitched through her. Suppressing it, she latched on to her sense of fair play, which ran deep. “I can probably find a way to deal with Sally. She’s a reminder I can do without, but she’d have the sense to give me space. I’ve never blamed her. But if you put me in a room with Katherine, I swear I won’t stop screaming.”

“Oh, Rae.” Pity laced Yuna’s voice. “Katherine isn’t at fault. Why do you keep blaming her? It was an accident.”





Chapter 4


Yuna’s car disappeared behind a curtain of snow. With stiff movements, Rae put away Kameko’s watering can and the baking sheets.

A sports channel murmured in the living room. Her father lay on the couch, snoring. Rae fetched a blanket and covered him.