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Looking at her, Adora just wanted to let her go right on sleeping. She glanced at Jed and thought he felt the same.

But then, as if she’d sensed them watching her, Tiff opened her eyes. For a moment she seemed dazed. Then her eyes cleared and her sleepy smile grew wider. She sat up and yawned.

“What’s up, guys?” She looked from Adora to her brother and back again. And her smile faded. Worry clouded her dark eyes. “What?”

Jed dropped to the couch beside her and wrapped one of those huge arms around her. “Tiff...” And that was all he seemed to be able to say.

Tiff nudged her shoulder against him, fond and impatient at the same time. “What?” She looked at Adora for an answer. “Dory, come on...”

Adora prayed for the right words to come to her.

Before they did, Jed said, “It’s Ma.”

Tiff turned to him. “Mom?”

Jed nodded.

Tiff worried her lower lip. “I don’t...um. What do you mean?”

Jed started to speak.

But before he could get a word out, Tiff went on, “It’s weird. I was just dreaming about Mom. She hugged me. She said never to forget how much she loves me. That’s kind of funny, huh? Like I could forget something like that. You know how she is, always grabbing me and kissin’ on me and saying I’m her precious baby girl. She looked...really peaceful in my dream. But her skin was too white, you know?”

Adora remembered Lola lying on the trail. Peaceful. And pale...

“Jed?” Tiff nudged him again. “Jed. What’s the matter?”

And somehow, he said it. “Tiff, something happened. Ma was picking berries. Down by Trout Creek. She had...a heart attack, or something. We’re not sure.”

Tiffany shook her head, her hair fanning out, then falling so prettily against her cheek. “A heart attack? Mom? No. There’s nothing wrong with Mom. Mom is fine. Mom is—” She ran out of words. She turned to Adora, her big brown eyes filling, her face going red. “Dory. Dory, what is he saying?”

Adora gulped, feeling answering tears rising, willing them down. “She’s gone, honey.”

Tiffany gulped in a breath. And then she let it out on a tight little moan. “No...”

Jed rubbed his eyes. “Aw, Tiff...”

Tiffany turned to him again, her soft lips quivering, but her chin held high. “Gone. You mean...dead?”

Jed only nodded.

“Mom?” she whispered. “Mom’s dead....”

And then, with a cry, she flung herself against her brother. She grabbed a handful of his black vest in each of her small fists, and she pressed her face against him, at that shining silver cross. “No,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Jed whispered tack.

“No!”

This time, Jed said nothing.

But Tiffany couldn’t stop. “No,” she said. “No, no, no, no...” over and over, as if by saying it so many times, she might bring Lola back.

Soon enough, the nos became sobs. And the tears spilled over.

Adora stood there, feeling useless, aching for both of them, as Tiffany cried and Jed held her, rocking her like a baby, stroking the smooth red-brown cap of her hair.

Finally, Tiff calmed a little. She pulled away from Jed. Adora spotted a box of tissues on a side table. She went and got it. Tiff took a handful. She dried her eyes and blew her nose, hiccupping a little, trying to bear up.

Watching her, Adora couldn’t help recalling her own foolish, self-indulgent tears earlier that afternoon and feeling that her own problems weren’t much at all compared to this. She also wondered about the precious minutes she’d kept Jed in her apartment, listening to her woes and drinking champagne. Could those minutes have made a difference? If she’d told Jed right away about where Lola had gone, might they have found her in time to save her life?

Tiff blew her nose for the third time, then scooted over closer to Jed and patted the space where she’d been. “Sit by us, Dory. Please.”

Adora pushed her guilty thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time to ponder them. She sat next to Tiff. With a torn little sigh, Tiff leaned against her for a moment. Then she leaned the other way, against Jed, who wrapped an arm around her and rested his bearded chin on the crown of her head.

“What happened?” Tiff asked. And a sob escaped her. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, composing herself. Then she took a deep breath. “Please tell me. I want to know.”

Without going into too much detail, they told the sad story. Jed was explaining that it would be a day or two before they knew for sure why Lola had died, when they heard footsteps on the front walk. The curtains of the front window were open. From where he sat, Jed could see the porch and the steps leading up to it. He glanced out—and swore low, with feeling.

Tiff stared up at him. “Who is it?” She turned to look out the window, then moaned. “Oh, no.”

Adora turned to see, but the angle was wrong. Whoever it was had moved out of her line of vision and stood right at the door. The visitor knocked.

Jed pulled his sister just a little closer to his side and caught Adora’s eye. “Answer it, will you?”

“No!” Tiff sounded childish, even petulant suddenly, not at all like the incredibly gallant girl who had asked so bravely to be told how her mother had died.

But Jed was nodding grimly. “We’ll have to deal with her eventually. There’s no sense in trying to pretend we won’t.”

Tiff sniffed in outrage and whirled on Jed. “But—”

“Shh.” He smoothed her hair, then looked at Adora. “Go ahead. Please.”

Adora got up and pulled open the door.

On the porch stood Charity Laidlaw, who was Tiffany’s aunt—as well as the woman who had once accused Jed of rape.

Three

Behind Charity and off to the side a little stood her husband Morton, looking miserable.

Charity spoke first, which was no surprise to anyone.

“Hello, Adora.” Even in greeting, her tone left no room for compromise.

“Hello, Mrs. Laidlaw.”

It was odd, Adora thought. Charity had nice, even features, cornflower blue eyes and ash blond hair that curled softly around her face. She’d kept her figure slim. She should have been attractive. But she wasn’t. She was too self-righteous to be good-looking.

“May we come in?”

Adora glanced at Jed, giving him one more chance to change his mind. But Jed only nodded. So Adora stepped back and pushed open the screen.

“We’ve heard the terrible news,” Charity intoned as she entered, followed at a respectful distance by her browbeaten spouse. “And we’ve come to take our poor niece home with us.” Charity caught sight of Jed right then. Her finely cut nostrils flared, as if she smelled something bad.

Jed and Tiff stood as one.

“Tiff is home, Charity.” Jed seemed to take pleasure in calling Tiff’s aunt by her given name, which few, if any, in Red Dog City ever dared to do. “And I’m here, so I’ll take care of her.”