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“You’re stirring up trouble,” Edie charged.
“I’m looking for answers.”
“Maybe you should worry more about your life and where it’s not going rather than obsess about your sister.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me, Julia. You’re the one who’s divorced and not working. Right?”
“Maybe I learned from the best,” she said quickly, and heard her mother gasp. Edie’s track record in marriage was always a forbidden subject.
“Look, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, but you’ve got to quit attacking me, Mom. I just care about Shay.”
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“Well, believe it or not, that makes two of us. Oh … I’ve got another call. It’s Grant. Gotta run. Bye.” She clicked off.
Jules let out a sound of frustration. Shay had been in southern Oregon for three days, and Jules was even more convinced that Blue Rock Academy wasn’t the right place for her sister. Sure, Shay had a bad attitude and needed something to shock her out of her sullen, rebellious ways. But a boarding school where one girl had gone missing a few months back and a teacher had been let go because of sexual misconduct with a minor or something akin to it?
Having read every article she could find on the Internet about Blue Rock, Jules had learned that it was founded in 1975 and was not associated with any other school. Blue Rock had been named for the color of some of the rocks in the caves nearby. It was an independent institution, was fully accredited, and—if the quotes from satisfied teens and parents printed all over its Web site were true—was “a godsend.” The testimonials were effusive. If Jules were to believe Blue Rock’s own advertising, then Shaylee had been sent to her utter salvation somewhere deep in the Siskiyou Mountains.
Jules still wasn’t buying it. Everything seemed too slick, too perfect.
She read the academy’s mission statement, a letter from Reverend Lynch, and a few glowing testimonials. It seemed so scripted.
Her eyes glazed over as she clicked on the faculty page. It seemed like a small list, and she didn’t recognize any names. Maris Howell’s name was conspicuously absent. A note at the bottom of the page stated that the Web site was being updated.
“I’ll bet,” she said aloud. “Have to update the Web site so it doesn’t show one damned flaw.” Everything about the school seemed too good to be true.
“Just your suspicious nature,” she said, echoing her ex-husband’s accusations when he swore on his mother’s life he wasn’t having an affair. But then Sebastian Farentino was nothing if not a liar who would call up any excuse to save his own pathetic hide. She’d learned that soon enough. And as for the accusation of him having an affair? How long had it taken him to marry wife number two? Five or six weeks from the minute the divorce papers were signed.
“Fast work, Sebastian,” she said under her breath, though, in truth, most of her anger and hurt had dissipated in the past three years.
The worst part of the whole betrayal was that his new wife, Peri, had once been Jules’s best friend. The whole scene reeked. “So cliché,” she told herself as she clicked off the school’s homepage and checked the status of her ever-shrinking bank account. From there, she clicked on the Web site she’d been using to find a job. She scoured the listings, read over the few responses she’d received—all negative—and convinced herself that as an out-of-work third-year teacher, she would never find a teaching job. For now she would have to stick with waiting tables.
Discouraged, she pushed back her chair and headed down to the kitchen, where she placed a pot of tea on one of the two working burners. She had rented this two-story condo near the university after moving back from Portland. She’d envisioned herself going back to school, then maybe someday buying a place of her own. So far it hadn’t happened.
When she’d taught at Bateman High School, her debilitating headaches had caused her to miss a lot of class time. Those headaches were the direct result of sleepless nights, nights of suffering from recurring nightmares. “Insanity are us,” she said sarcastically as the teakettle shrilled, and she reached for a cup.
She found a tea bag she’d used that morning, stuck it into a cup, then filled the cup with steaming water. What if her waitressing job dried up? High-end restaurants were closing daily in Seattle and its suburbs.
Her dwindling bank account was testament to the fact that she needed another source of income. She’d considered taking in a roommate, a situation she’d heretofore avoided. But things had changed. Since there was no chance of Shaylee moving in, Jules could cram her desk into her bed-room and rent out the other two to college students. Yeah, it would cut into her privacy, but at least she’d have help with the rent and utilities. Maybe then she wouldn’t worry about losing her home.
She thought fleetingly of the house she’d shared with Sebastian, a sleek contemporary set on a wooded hillside with a view of Mount Hood. A lumber broker, Sebastian still lived in that house in the west hills of Portland, now with Peri and their one-year-old daughter.
Surprisingly, she didn’t miss him. In truth, she probably missed her friendship with Peri more. As for the house, it had always been “his,” all glass and wood and high ceilings and flat-screen TVs. Bought with his money, decorated according to his taste. No, she didn’t miss Sebastian Farentino, nor did her mother’s disappointment that she’d let such a good catch “slip through her fingers” really bother Jules. What really killed her was that Peri, a friend since the sixth grade, had traded their relationship for one with Sebastian.
That had been the sharpest knife in her back.
But then, Peri had known about Jules and Cooper Trent.
And that fateful knowledge had apparently given her carte blanche when it came to flirting with her best friend’s husband.
Lost in thought, Jules carried the tea back up to her office. If it hadn’t been Peri, some other woman would have convinced Sebastian to stray. He was a player and would be until he was six feet under. Jules was better off without him.
You never really loved him; come on, Jules, admit it.
She didn’t want to go there. She’d thought she’d loved him at the time she married him, had intended for the marriage to be her first and last.
