by Jeff Shelby
I glanced at Holly, who looked as if she would’ve paid a million dollars to be anywhere but in the middle of this conversation.
“Maybe I misheard you, then?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Maybe you aren’t going to be Snow White? Maybe you’re just hoping?”
Madison Bandersand’s nostrils flared and her mouth flattened into an angry, tight line and she suddenly looked like a much younger version of her mother. She grabbed Holly by the arm and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind them.
FIVE
“Can you believe that?” I said to Jake as I grabbed the container of coffee from the kitchen cupboard. “The nerve of that snotty kid.”
Jake leaned against the counter and shrugged. “Doesn’t really sound out of character. And from what you said, she hasn’t officially been named Snow White yet.”
I’d waited in the hallway after my confrontation with Madison and then returned home with the girls, the costumes and the groceries. Jake had done the dishes and put the leftovers away, and I was getting the coffeemaker set for the morning.
“But still,” I said, glancing out into the living room to make sure there were no little ears attempting to listen in. “To go around telling everyone you’re getting the part? And to act like you don’t even care about the girl that no one can seem to find?”
He picked up a can of peanuts off the counter and pulled off the lid. “Uh, have you paid attention to her mother? She seems like exactly the kind of kid that lady would raise.”
I moved to the sink and filled the coffee carafe with water. “But you don’t just go around telling everyone you’re going to be the star unless you know it’s going to happen.”
“I thought it was just her and another girl in the room...”
“You know what I mean.” I turned the tap off. “ If she told one person, don’t you think she’s told more? I mean, it didn’t sound like she and Holly were great friends or anything.”
“I didn’t know you were such an expert on identifying the depths of friendship.” I glared at him and he winked. “Have you considered that perhaps her mother did, in fact, tell her that she would be Snow White?”
“Without another audition? Without giving anyone else a shot at it?”
“Uh, yeah,” he answered, reaching for another handful of peanuts. “That sounds exactly like what that insane woman would do. I mean, isn’t this the first show that her kid hasn’t been the star of? She normally casts her kid in the biggest role, right? So why would it be any different now that she has an opening?”
We’d heard the rumors when we’d signed on for the play. Friends of friends who’d breathed a sigh of relief that it was just the younger girls auditioning. When we asked why, the answer was universal: because Madison Bandersand always got the lead role. I’d done a little digging, pulling up information on their web site and the rumors appeared to be true. Not only did they mostly perform plays with female leads, but Madison was always cast, or double-cast, as the lead. Jake and I had actually been pleasantly surprised when we’d found out that she wasn’t playing Snow White in the production; in fact, she had a relatively minor role on stage and was helping with choreography instead.
“I don’t know,” I said, irritated. “It just doesn’t seem fair. And no one seems to care about this Amanda. The girl that’s missing. Is anyone wondering where she is?”
He chuckled. “Apparently you are.”
I poured the water into the coffeemaker and reached for the can of hazelnut coffee. “Aren’t you?”
“Sure, but I don’t know the girl and I don’t know anything about her,” he said. “She might be at home with the flu. Or with her family in Europe. It’s hard for me to get riled up over something I don’t know much about.”
Which was exactly like him. He rarely jumped to conclusions and often playfully mocked me for doing so. He waited until he could see evidence and then he’d think about making a judgment. It was annoying, mainly because, more often than not, he was able to mock me again for having turned nothing into something — when it had always been nothing.
Except for when it had been dead bodies and stolen computers. I smiled to myself. He wasn’t always right.
“The way that Madison was talking, it was almost like she was glad Amanda was missing,” I said, scooping out grounds. “Like maybe she knew something about it.”
“It?” Jake polished off another handful of peanuts and put the lid back on.
“Her disappearance.”
There was a pause. And then, firmly, he said, “No.”
“No what?”
“No.”
I frowned at him. “No what?”
He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I told you. No more of this private detective stuff unless you’re actually going to be a private detective.”
“I’m not being a private detective,” I said.
He pointed a finger at me. “That’s exactly what you’re being. You think some teenager is responsible for the disappearance of another teenager so she could star in a play? I can see your wheels turning.”
I turned away from him, intending to put the coffee back. Except he was standing in front of the cupboard. He was right, of course. The wheels were definitely turning. I’d been thinking about it ever since Madison had slammed the door on me. What if she’d done something to Amanda so she couldn’t play Snow White? Who else had more to gain than Madison if Amanda wasn’t available? I couldn’t help it. It was where my mind went. And, unfortunately, I couldn’t hide it from my husband.
“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” he said. “If you’re going to do this, at least get paid for it.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I said, making a face at him. “You’re the one who’s jumping to conclusions.”
He rolled his eyes, much the same way Emily did, and walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head.
Will passed him as he walked out. “What’s wrong with Jake?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Or maybe a lot of things. I don’t know.”
“Oh. Okay.” He eyed me hopefully. “Hey, can you make cookies?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
I sighed and shoved the coffee back in the cupboard. “I’m really tired.”
“Me, too,” he said. “Do you have chocolate chips?”
“I meant I was tired and don’t want to make cookies.”
“Mom, come on,” he said. “You haven’t baked anything in like a week.”
“It hasn’t been a week. And I’ve been busy.”
“And we’ve been hungry.”
“Who exactly is 'we'?”
He waved a hand out toward the living room. “Your family, that’s who. We’ve been deprived of your delicious baked goods for over a week now, and we’re all going into withdrawal.”
I stared at him. “Maybe that’s part of your punishment. You know, for hacking into your sister’s accounts.”
His expression was innocent. “I told you why I did that. I thought you’d thank me!”
“For spying on your sister?”
“Look, she had her password set as her birthday! Anyone could have gotten into her stuff. If anything, she should be thanking me for pointing out the security flaws and… and motivating her to make a stronger password.” His eyes opened wide. “I was just trying to help.”
“Baloney.” I tried to keep my voice stern but I had to fight to keep from smiling. Will was good with computers – we all knew that – but his true talent had always been debate. I had no doubt he could have a great career in technology but his personality was better suited to being a lawyer.
“If you don’t wanna make cookies for me, that’s fine.” His voice grew soft. “But you should make them for the girls. They’ve worked hard on the play this week, and Em has a test tomorrow that she’s freaking out over.”
“You’re totally trying to butter me up.”
He grinned. “Is it working?”
I sighed but this time I couldn’t hide my smile. “Unfortunately, yes. Fine. I will make something real quick.”
He raised his arms in victory and marched out of the kitchen. “Thanks, Mom,” he called. “You’re the best.”
I chuckled. Will knew how to push buttons – all the buttons.
I grabbed eggs and butter and sugar and started mixing everything in a big ceramic bowl. I’d make bars instead of cookies – just as good but much less time-consuming.
“Here,” Jake said behind me.
“Here what?” I turned off the beaters and scraped down the edges with my fingers.
“Look.”
I spun around, cookie dough caked to my fingers. He was holding up a stack of papers.
He laid them down on top of the microwave. “When you’re done with the cookies, you can take a look.”
“Bars,” I corrected him. “ And what is it?”
He smiled at me. “What you need to do get your investigator’s license in the state of Minnesota.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know, right?” His blue eyes twinkled. “You’re welcome.”
I frowned. “That isn’t what I meant. I don’t need those. I’m not becoming an investigator.”
“So you’re telling me that since I walked out of the kitchen you haven’t thought for a second about Amanda and Madison and the case of the missing Snow White?”
I stood there, my sticky hands in the air. I didn’t say anything.
He pointed at me again, a victorious grin on his face. “I knew it.” Then he pointed at the papers. “So when you’re done, take a look.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He smiled. “I know you will. It’s killing you not to look right now.” He waved at me and walked out of the kitchen. “I know you will, Daisy.”
I loved my husband. He was a wonderful man. He’d made my life infinitely better in so many ways that I’d lost count.
But, right then, watching him stride out of the kitchen with that smug look on his face, I really wanted to punch him in the stomach.
SIX
“Emily, I don’t want you on your phone all night,” I said, glancing in the rear view mirror.
All six of us were loaded into the minivan the next night, heading to our friends, the Witts. Jake and I were going out for our monthly double date with Brenda and Johnny, while the kids all hung out at their house. They were our best friends and fortunately, our four kids got along well with their five. It made things easier when we all needed to get out and escape the kids for a couple of hours.
“Emily? Did you hear me?” I asked.
She didn’t look up. “What?”
“Did you hear me?” I repeated, a little louder this time. She was in the back row of the minivan and the radio was blasting a Taylor Swift song; maybe she really hadn’t heard me.
“Sure.”
“What did I say then?”
She finally looked up. Her blue eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner and mascara. She looked like she was going on a date instead of heading over to the home of a family friend. “What?”
Jake chuckled and shook his head behind the steering wheel.
I sighed. “I said I don’t want you on your phone all night.”
“I won’t be.”
“Yeah, right,” Will said. He was in the seat next to her, his own phone in his lap.
“Shut up.”
“Guarantee she won’t put it down all night,” he said.
“Maybe I should just take it now, then,” I said.
Her eyes opened wide in horror. “No. I’ll put it away. I promise.” She clicked the off button and shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie.
“What if Andy texts you?” Will asked, grinning.
She reached over and punched him in the chest. He tried to scoot closer to the window, out of her reach.
“Who’s Andy?” Sophie asked.
“Some boy at her school,” Grace said, twisting around to look at her oldest sister. “Emily likes him.”
“Shut up, Grace,” Emily snarled. “I do not.”
“Oh, yes you do,” Will said, laughing.
“I swear, I’m changing every single password of mine,” she snapped at him. “And I’ll have my friends block you from their accounts, too.”
“As if that could stop me,” Will countered.
“All phones go away as soon as we leave,” Jake said, eyeing them all in the mirror. “They only come out for emergencies. Everyone got it?”
“Sure,” Grace said agreeably, because she was the only one who didn’t have a phone.
Sophie nodded her assent. Will looked hesitant
“Will?” I asked. “You hear that?”
“Yeah, but sometimes we play games on them,” he said. “So how about if we just pull them out for games and emergencies?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Well, what if the other kids have their phones out?”
“I’ll talk to Brenda,” I said. “Pretty sure she’ll be happy to thrown down a no-phone moratorium for the evening.”
Will frowned, then glanced at Emily. “Okay, fine, but if she pulls her phone out, I’m calling you because as far as I’m concerned, that’s an emergency.”
“That’s fair,” I said. “You hear that, Em?”
“Huh?”
“Did you hear that?”
“Sure?”
“Emily?”
She looked up from her phone, annoyed. “What?”
I sighed, wondering what the punishment was for tossing a teenager out of a moving car. I took a deep breath. “No phones after we leave.”
“But—”
“And if you take it out, Will has permission to call us,” I said, cutting her off. “End of story.”
She looked like I’d just shot her puppy.
“Andy will still be there in the morning,” I said, smiling at her in the mirror.
Her face flushed red and the rest of the kids howled.
Which actually felt better than tossing her out of the car.
SEVEN
“We should do that sometime,” Jake said, pointing out the window. “The corn maze thing.”
Johnny Witt stiffened in the passenger seat next to him. “That’s not funny, man.”
We’d dropped the kids at Johnny and Brenda’s, negotiated the cease-phone rule amongst all of the kids, and were headed to a nearby Mexican restaurant. We were just about to exit the highway when we passed the corn maze next to the giant outdoor market. I’d been there several times with the kids. It was a fairly elaborate maze, with the corn stalks tall enough so that it wasn’t terribly easy to get out. You had to pay attention and you had to be patient. It was a fun thing to do once a year. Jake, however, had never been because I refused to go on the weekends because it was too crowded. We had definitely been spoiled by being able to go during the week when most kids were in school.
Jake looked at him. “What?”
Johnny adjusted his glasses. “Did Brenda put you up to that?”
Jake hit his signal and moved into the exit lane. “Uh, no.”
“I didn’t,” Brenda said, next to me in the back of the van. “I promise.”
“Those things are no joke, alright?” he said, jabbing his finger at the window. “I got stuck in there once. I’m never going back. Never.”
“You got stuck?” Jake asked, trying not to laugh.
“His phone died,” Brenda said. She glanced at me, her lips pressed together to keep a smile from blossoming. “And it was getting dark. Johnny...had a bit of a moment.”
“I didn’t have a moment,” Johnny said, with absolutely no amusement in his voice. “I could’ve died out there, alright? Those things should be illegal.”
“Did you not have a map?” I asked. The corn maze always handed out maps… and white flags to wave in surrender if the challenge proved to be too great. I’d never had to use mine.
“I di
d, I did,” he said. “But it wasn’t right. I followed it and it just took me deeper inside that labyrinth of danger.” He shook his head and shivered. “Never again, man. Never again.”
“It’s a thing for him,” Brenda whispered to me as we turned into the parking lot of Tres Amigos.
I raised my eyebrow at her and she stifled a laugh.
Jake parked the van and he and Johnny were already on to talking about football or basketball or something sports-related as we headed into the restaurant. The wind whipped through the parking lot as we hurried toward the door. Fall was a hit or miss season in Minnesota: sometimes, it lasted for a month, sometimes it seemed to last a week before the snow began to fly.
We waited at the hostess stand for a table and Brenda started telling me about the new instructor at the ballet school her girls attended. For the hundredth time, I reminded myself how grateful I was to have them as friends. As established as I was in Moose River, Jake and I had had a hard time connecting with people we felt like we could hang out with. There was a lot about us that made us different – we were on our second marriage and we had a blended family; we didn’t attend church; and we homeschooled are kids. Not a ton to work with in the “let’s focus on what we have in common” method of finding friends. Most folks were friendly enough and polite enough, but that was far different than finding people to go out to dinner with. I’d said it to Jake more than once and he didn’t disagree: if we hadn’t found Johnny and Brenda and their family, we might not have stuck around in Moose River.
We ordered drinks and appetizers and then our food as we all chatted about kids and jobs. Mary was cutting more teeth and Derek had decided to use a potted palm for potty training; I told them about Will hacking into Emily’s account and Johnny the computer genius was reluctantly impressed.
“He won’t have any trouble finding a job,” he remarked.
“Not if his sister doesn’t kill him first,” Jake said, dipping a chip into a terracotta bowl brimming with white queso.