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"Let's get ready to go out," Jesse said, passing me on the stairway. "Dad's right. We need a night out together," he added, and hurried up the stairs to his room. I followed slowly.
I felt drained, exhausted, and very worried about Karen, but at least when we all went out to dinner, she would have the house to herself, and she could fetch whatever she needed. I thought I would leave a note in The Diary of Anne Frank for her, not only about Jesse's earlier arrival but briefly what had occurred at the police station. Surely, she was on pins and needles about it. I made sure to tell her that Jesse supported her story, gave it credence. She needed cheering up as much as I did, if not more. I stuck the note in the book and placed it on the shelf, sticking out an inch or so as usual, so she would know something was in it for her.
While I was getting dressed, my mother came home and came directly to my room. I was just finishing brushing my hair but hadn't yet picked out what I would wear.
"Hi," she said, looking as if she had expected to find me brooding in the corner or something. "Hi."
"Your father told me about the police today and how unpleasant it was for you."
"They were terrible. Even Daddy got angry."
"You should have told them it all the first time, Zipporah. It didn't do Karen any good. But," she quickly added, "I understand why you felt the need to keep it to yourself. It's just that . . . well, after what had happened, why worry about her being
embarrassed or her feeling betrayed? It didn't help matters, as you saw."
I turned away, the tears burning at the rims of my eyelids. What was I going to tell her? Karen's not gone; it's not over? I'm still her best and only friend? And what about what Daddy had told me about, not betraying a friend? I didn't say anything in my own defense, however. If I were too adamant about it, she might suspect something more, I thought.
"Her mother should have been the one to tell them," was all I could think to say.
"Yes, she should have. You're certainly right there. What a horrible mess. Anyway, your
involvement in it all is over. There isn't anything more you can do or tell them," she said, mostly for herself, it seemed. "It's up to them now. I'd better get changed," she added, and hurried out.
Later, at the restaurant, my parents did all they could to keep the Pearson tragedy out of our conversation, but unfortunately, there were people at the restaurant whom my father knew, and when they stopped to say hello, they had to make reference to the news in Sandburg. One man, another attorney named Clarence Hartwick, thought he was amusing telling my father he had picked the wrong small town to settle in, a town full of Lizzie Borden's relatives.
"He's a sick S.O.B.," my father muttered to us as soon as Hartwick walked away. "I never liked him in court or out."
"I don't think it's fair comparing Karen Stoker to Lizzie Borden anyway," Jesse said. "There's quite a difference in what motivated each."
"Let me give you a little advice," Daddy said, sitting back. "Be miserly when it comes to just how much faith you spend on your clients' honesty. You'll be far less disappointed in the end, even if you win your cases."
"What are you saying, Dad? Zipporah is lying about what happened to Karen?"
"No, of course not. Why should Zipporah lie? But we're going completely on hearsay, Jess. Don't fault the police for being skeptical. They won't do a good job if they're not skeptical."
"Yes, well, I just can't imagine a girl like that doing something like that out of the blue," Jesse insisted.
A girl like that? I had mixed feelings about his support for Karen. On the one hand, it made me feel better about myself and my own investment in her, but on the other, it made me uneasy, even a little jealous, to see him come so vehemently to her defense. He didn't know her as well as I did, and if he knew how she had found his journal and read it, he would not be so eager to come rushing to her aid. These contradictory feelings I had confused and disturbed me. I must have been showing it, too. I saw my mother staring at me, her face molding into an expression of deeper and deeper concern.
"Can we change the subject?" she asked. "I'm so tired of this. It's running away with our lives."
"Absolutely. So, Jesse, you're coming to the office tomorrow, right?" Daddy asked him. "I'd like you to meet everyone and work out how you're going to help out there this summer. I have an interesting case, too, and you'll be of real assistance with the research."
"Not tomorrow. How about the day after? I have a few more chores to do around the house."
"Chores? You keep surprising me, Jesse, but don't be a better handyman than your father. It makes him look bad," Daddy told him.
"I won't. No worries there."
"We might have a surprise or two in store for you before the week's out," Daddy told him, and winked at me.
"What surprise?"
"Wouldn't be a surprise if we told, would it, Zipporah?"
"No."
"You're finally going to break down and get us a dog, is that it, Dad?"
