“And, to be honest, I think you’re a little bored,” he said, cutting his eyes sideways at me.

My fork was halfway to my mouth. “Excuse me?”

“I think you’re a little bored,” he repeated. He pulled more noodles out of the carton. “Look, the kids are getting older. They’ve got friends and activities. It’s not just you driving them around town all the time. Yeah, you still have to do that, but they’re starting to carve out their own lives. And I think you aren’t quite sure what to do with that.”

I stared into my carton of chicken. I hated that he was able to get into my own head so easily. He was right, of course. I’d realized that the kids were starting to do more of their own things now and didn’t need me in the same way they used to. I should’ve taken that as a sign that I’d done my job as a mom, but it also forced me to reconcile with the fact that they were getting older. And that was an uncomfortable feeling. I liked having my kids at home. I wasn’t ready for them to leave me yet. And it had given me more than a few moments of anxiety.

“Well, if you care, I think you’d be good at it,” he said, handing me back the noodles.

I traded the chicken back to him. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do. You’re stubborn. You’re tenacious. You notice little details about people. You have a natural curiosity.” He smiled at me. “And you’re a total pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Well, I think it might take all of those things to be good at being an investigator,” he said. “You might have to learn other things, but those things? You already have them.” He smiled again. “Plus, I already know you’re interested.”

“Oh, you do not,” I said, completely irritated that he thought he knew me so well. Then I glanced at him. “How do you know that?”

He set the now empty carton on the coffee table and shifted on the couch, turning his body toward me. “Because we’re having this conversation. Because you haven’t shut me down. You’re pretending like it’s a silly idea, but you haven’t told me to shut up yet. You’re letting me point out all the reasons you should think about it but that’s only because you’ve only thought of them already on your own. I’m just affirming them.” His hand moved from my knee to my thigh and he squeezed me gently. “That’s how I know.”

It was a curse and a blessing, having a husband who could see inside my brain. I hated that I was so transparent, but I loved that he cared enough to take a look.

I finished the lo mein and set the carton on the table next to the one he’d emptied. “So you want me to do this?”

“No. What I want is for you to take the time to see if you want to do it,” he explained. “Read through the websites, see what kind of time it would really take, think about the pros and cons. If you do, let’s figure out what the next step is. If you don’t, I’m good with that, too.” He fished for my hand and held it in his. “But if you don’t, then I want you to dial it back. I don’t want you getting mixed up in things that have the potential to harm you.”

“I’m not going to get hurt,” I told him.

“You don’t know that and I’m not willing to let you take the risk,” he said. “So you’re either in or you’re out. And I’m good either way. But no more straddling the line.”

I knew he was right. On nearly every single account. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and then commit to it. One way or another.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll look at it. Seriously. And make a decision.”

“Good.”

“Should I start now? Go grab the computer?”

He started to say something, then swallowed the words. Then he leaned toward me and kissed my neck. “I think it can wait.”

“You told me to get on it,” I said. “Urgency. Make a decision.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, kissing me right beneath my ear. “But there’ll be time for that. I think we need to focus on something else first.”

I leaned into him and closed my eyes. “What’s that?”

I could feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin. “More research.”

TWENTY

“These look terrific, Daisy,” Joanne Claussen said, wide-eyed. “I mean, honestly. This is far better than what I’d imagined.”

It was the next morning and I’d made plans to get over to the theater and meet with Joanne to show her what I’d come up with for the program designs. It was a Saturday so school wasn’t in session, but there were high school kids milling around near the gymnasiums and concession stand. I’d slipped into the theater and found Joanne backstage, sitting in a rickety wooden chair, her laptop set on a coffee table. They were props from an old show, items that for some reason hadn’t made it back into the storage closet.

“Really?” I asked, pleased she was so enthusiastic. I’d given her the flash drive with both designs and she was staring at her screen in awe. “I wasn’t entirely sure about what I was doing.”

“Oh my goodness, yes,” Joanne answered, nodding her head up and down. Her brown curls bounced like springs. “Like night and day from what I was able to dream up.” She looked over the laptop screen at me. “So does this mean you’ll do them?”

“Tell me which one you like best and, sure,” I told her. “I’ll do it.”

She took a deep breath, clearly relieved. “This is great. Okay. If I have to choose one, I like the second design the best. I like the colors and the way you’ve laid everything out. But if you prefer the other, I’m okay with that, too. They both look terrific.”

She’d picked the one I’d already decided I liked best. “I like that one better, too. Okay. We’ll run with that.”

She spun the laptop around so we could both see the screen. We spent a few minutes going over some of the details and she told me she’d get me the name of the printer so I could make contact with them and make arrangements for the printing. I made notes in my phone so I wouldn’t forget anything.

“I really appreciate this, Daisy,” she finally said. “You’re really saving me here. I’ll let Eleanor know we’ve got it all under control.” Something flashed in her eyes. “Well, at least this part under control.”

Before I could say anything, the side door to the theater slammed and Madison marched across the backstage area. She stalked toward us, a scowl on her face.

“I need to talk to you,” she said to Joanne, completely ignoring me.

Joanne looked up from the computer. “What is it, Madison?”

Madison folded her arms across her chest. “I was supposed to have a custom wig. That thing you bought me looks like it came from the thrift store!”

“I bought it online from a wigmaker,” Joanne told her.

Her voice was calm but her hands were tightly fisted and I knew she was struggling to maintain her composure. I didn’t blame her.

Madison snorted. “Then return it and find another one. Because I am not wearing that piece of crap onstage.”

“It cost two hundred dollars,” Joanne told her.

Madison’s hands moved to her hips and she stared Joanne down. “I don’t care how much it costs. Fix it. Or I’m telling Mother.” With that, she turned on her heels and flounced out of the room.

“Let me guess. Madison is another one of your problems?” I asked. She looked more than a little stressed and I felt bad for her. Anyone who had to work closely with either Bandersand woman deserved a bit of sympathy.

“I can handle her,” she said with a weak smile.

“Anything I can help with?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. I think we’ve got the volunteering projects under control now. It’s just…” She looked around the empty backstage area. A few people were milling around on the stage, but they didn’t seem to concern her. “It’s the money thing.”

“The money thing?”

“Remember how I mentioned Eleanor was concerned about the revenue the other day?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think it’s a bit more dire than I realized.” She swallowed and shifted in her chair. “The activities director here at the high school called me at home last night. We pay to use the facilities.” She paused and then lowered her voice when she spoke. “Apparently, the check I wrote her bounced.”