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“You don’t. Reva and Billy Dee can handle it.” Undeterred, Brit slid her phone into the pocket of her maternity jeans.
“She’s right. We’re okay,” Billy Dee said.
Brit tried to swallow back her tears. “I really . . . I really need to get back to Pete and the kids.”
“But”—Lila held up her hands—“if you stay a few more minutes, we—”
“I just can’t,” Brit said, pushing past Lila and hurrying into the foyer and out the front door. It closed with a definitive thud.
“I should go, too,” Rachel heard herself saying.
“No way. You just got here.” Jaw set, her cheeks coloring, Lila tried to take charge. She stood in the archway to the foyer as if blocking everyone inside. “Listen. We’re all upset. I get that. Me too. God, yes. But we have to get through some of this work. Come on, let’s just get to it and make it a short meeting so everyone can get back to their families. Okay? Really. We don’t have time to reschedule.” As a Realtor, she was used to dealing with arbitration and bringing two opposing sides together. “We just need to get this done. Right.”
“Shit, I guess,” Billy Dee said. “I dunno.”
“You do. Just a few more minutes and then we’ll wrap it up for the night.” Lila was insistent.
“Yeah, I don’t want to postpone,” Reva said as she and Billy Dee headed back to the far end of the dining room table.
“Fine.” Mercedes threw a dark glance at Rachel. “You’re working on the last of the classmates we can’t locate. You got some?”
Under her breath, Reva said, “She’s such a bitch,” as she walked past to join Billy Dee at the dining room table again, but Rachel didn’t know if she was talking about Lila or Mercedes, or possibly both.
“I heard that!” Lila said.
“Rachel?” Mercedes prodded as she took her seat on the couch again.
“Yes. I’ve got a few.” Rachel pulled up a tufted ottoman, sat on it, and opened her laptop while Nate refilled his glass. “I’ve got names, addresses, e-mail, and phone numbers. Everything but social security numbers . . . a hacker’s dream.”
Mercy arched an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. She was still pissed.
Rachel looked down at her laptop and clicked onto the file. “There’re, let me se
e . . . still nine MIA, but I think I’ll be able to track most of them down. I’ve actually got information on them, but haven’t received responses to the e-mails.”
“You texted?” Nate took his seat again and sipped from his glass.
“When I could.”
Lila asked, “Is anyone definitely not coming? Did anyone respond and say that they just weren’t going to make it?”
Rachel checked the files on her laptop. “I’ve got about six who are definite no’s at this point.”
“Who?” Lila demanded. It was her contention that everyone should attend.
“To start with, we’ve got two who are serving time. Larry Gorse is in the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla and then there’s Lavonne Tinker. She’s in Billings, Montana.”
“For what?” Lila asked.
“Larry was in for aggravated assault. Almost killed a guy,” Nathan said. “I saw Larry’s brother a few years back and he gave me the word.”
Almost killed a guy . . . Rachel felt herself go cold inside. She had killed someone. Her own brother. Everyone in this room had been there.
“It was on the news even though it happened in Washington,” Mercy said. “I ran a few lines about it in the Past and Present column. And Lavonne tried to run over her cheating husband with their minivan, complete with car seats. Thankfully, the kids weren’t with her, but it put him in the hospital and she ended up in prison.”
“Okay, cross Larry and Lavonne out,” Nate said, then needled Lila. “Hope you didn’t want them to head any of the subcommittees.”
Lila rolled her eyes, and they got down to business. Finally.
