Page 41 of Within These County Lines

“We’re thinking of draining the whole dang thing and starting fresh,” Sheryl says, hands on her hip. “We tried shocking it with high levels of chlorine too, but that didn’t do a thing.”

“That could work,” I say.

I hand her an informational packet on pool cleaning methods from the health department. “I’ll check out the safety equipment while I’m here.” I nod toward the bin of orange life jackets and the freshly constructed lifeguard stand.

It’s strange to see something so new, so clean. Especially here, but really, anywhere in Penango. We’re a town of hand-me-downs. We use old textbooks with scribbled notes from students long gone. Our rusted cars rattle down cracked back roads. And we wear our grandparents’ hemmed clothes to homecoming dances. Just like the people, everything here is barely getting by. Keeping it all together takes up so much time, there’s not a second to spare to even think about getting out.

I’m starting to understand how people get stuck.

“Before you do that, I want to introduce you to Maggie,” Sheryl says, placing a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Stetson, this is Maggie Pomers.”

A cool rush of adrenaline floods my body. My breath catches. I yank out my earbud, suddenly needing to catch every single word of what she has to say.

“She’s Xander’s mother,” Sheryl continues. “I’m giving her a tour of the grounds.”

My throat tightens. “Hi, Mrs. Pomers,” I say, my voice unsteady. “I’m Stetson Delancey—the local county pool inspector.”

She extends her hand. “You can call me Maggie.”

Her mouth moves exactly like Xander’s when she speaks. Her hair is dark and curly like his too. The greeting is jarring—like hearing a friend’s voice in a crowded room when I wasn’t expecting them to be there.

And her eyes hold the same intensity, a deep, amber glow. But unlike Xander, the corners of her eyelids droop slightly, appearing like she’s on the verge of tears even as she smiles.

“We’re trying to recruit Stetson for camp,” Sheryl says with a laugh. “Come to think of it . . .” She raises a finger in the air. “You should help chaperone our summer send-off dance. We just finalized the activity schedule.”

I shrug. “What would I do?”

“Serve punch. Hang out. The kids would love having an older role model around.”

Maggie swallows.

I shift my stance. “As long as the pool stays green, I’ll be here.” I force a small smile. “So . . . count me in.”

Sheryl grins. “Then we’ll have to keep it green all summer.”

I stare at her.

“Kidding. Kidding.” She lifts her hands in surrender.

“Xander would have loved this,” Maggie says, pressing a hand to her heart. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing here, Sheryl. It’s beyond sweet.”

“That’s what it’s all about,” Sheryl says, nodding. “We have a page on our website dedicated to him. I’ll have to show you later.”

Maggie’s cheeks flush pink.

“What made him come here?” I ask.

Maggie blinks and tightens her expression. “Excuse me?”

I clutch my clipboard to my chest. “I mean . . . why did he like swimming here at night?”

She exhales, rubbing her brow. “Right, sorry. My mind always goes elsewhere.” Her hands move to her hips. “It was on the way home from the animal hospital. I think he liked stopping here to unwind after his shifts. It’s quiet, you know? Peaceful. You could always hear the water lapping against the pool walls, especially back then. The trees, the birds . . . it was calming for him.” She pauses. “Xander was a private person.”

“That sounds nice,” I say as I glance over my shoulder.

He’s not there.

Maggie’s gaze drifts to the side. She bites her thumbnail. “I do wonder if he came here because . . . he was afraid to go home. If he felt uncomfortable there, you know?”