The Babysitter. Nancy Bush

her.”

      “Once upon a time. We don’t really keep in touch.” Jamie felt that same twinge of guilt she always did that she hadn’t been quite fair to Gwen as a friend.

      “Her parents left her the house, too. A lot of that going around in River Glen.”

      “Did she get rid of all the weird tchotchkes and fake Spanish moss and other decorations around the outside of the house?”

      “God no. I think she likes being ‘mystical.’ It’s worse than ever. I talked to Rosie, too, about a month ago. She lives in Florida now. I keep telling myself I should go visit her, maybe in January when the weather’s cold and wet. We should go together.”

      “Yeah.” Jamie knew that was never going to happen with her current responsibilities.

      Jamie hadn’t mentioned that she’d met with Icky Vicky and her crowd for drinks earlier. Hadn’t wanted to. She’d enjoyed just listening to Camryn and not having to add much input. But now she let her friend know about meeting them for wine, admitting she felt she was invited because she was a curiosity to them.

      “Because of Emma,” Camryn said, and Jamie nodded. “Well, they’re nice enough, I suppose. Very protective of their boys, Vicky, Jill, and I don’t know Bette well, but she’s right in there. I remember Phil Kearns. Kind of supercilious.”

      Jamie remembered that about Bette’s husband, too. “People change.”

      “Not that much.”

      Later, as Jamie was driving home, she got a call from the house phone. Harley.

      “Hey, finally. I was getting worried,” she answered before Harley could say anything. “I didn’t call because I didn’t want to wake Emma. How was the mixer?”

      A pause. “You didn’t wake me,” her sister said. “Harley did. She’s in bed crying.”

      * * *

      Jamie broke the speed limit driving home and screeched into the driveway. She ran to the back door to find it locked. Of course. She banged on it with the flat of her hand, then whirled around and went for the gnome that held the key. Not. There.

      She just managed to keep from screaming before Emma appeared at the door. “Be quiet. You’ll wake the dead,” she said in her flat voice.

      “Where’s the key?” Jamie demanded as she brushed past her and racewalked for the stairs.

      “Harley forgot to put it back. Tsk-tsk.”

      Jamie ran up the stairs and took a moment at the top landing to pull herself together. Her heart was pounding. It would do no good to scare her daughter. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe everything was okay. It was just that Harley never cried.

      She walked down the hall with measured steps, forcing herself not to race. She hesitated outside Harley’s door. There was no sound.

      She heard Emma come up the stairs and stop at the top, like Jamie had. Jamie looked back at her sister. Emma wore sweatpants and a loose, white T-shirt with “River Glen General” stitched across the breast pocket.

      “Are you going in?” asked Emma.

      Jamie nodded, then tapped softly on the door. “Harley?” When there was no answer, she twisted the knob and cracked the door about two inches. “Harley?”