week. When are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not now. I … can’t. When I can, I will.” Sara slumped, spotted a card on the counter and snagged it. “Oh no. The fund-raiser’s tonight.”
“Tonight? It’s midnight.”
“No, tomorrow—Sunday night.” Sara wrung her hands. “I can’t do it, Beth. It’s Robert’s group.”
Beth supported the charities, but socials with Robert’s snooty friends left her cold. “One day you’re going to knock this off and stay away from them. You give in to panic and it just gets stronger. Pray on it instead. Have you prayed on it?”
“I can’t pray on this.”
“Of course you can. You can pray on anything.”
“Not on this,” she snapped. “You don’t understand.”
Sara rarely snapped. Beth studied her. “Then explain it to me.”
“It’s best that I don’t.” With a trembling hand, she shoved her hair back from her face. “Just go in my place.” She passed the card. “It’s for the moms.”
Something weird was going on that terrified Sara a lot more than the attack. NINA, and yet this was worse? Fear slithered down to Beth’s bones. “Is the reason you can’t pray connected to the warning you gave me—about protecting myself from you, and you from yourself?”
Sara didn’t answer.
It did connect. Whatever it was, it was worse than bad, and there was no way Sara was going to talk about it. Beth tugged at her sleeves. “Okay, I’ll go.”
In the past year, Sara had taken an intense interest in domestic violence and single moms. It started eight months ago with a case at the crisis center, which often took roll-over 911 calls when the department was short staffed. A four-year-old boy had phoned in and said, “My daddy killed my mommy.” Sara had taken the call, and on learning most stayed in violent situations because they lacked the means to get out of them, she began a fund-raising blitz thatshe was still on. She wanted to adopt that little boy, but Robert wasn’t ready for kids. Sara had seen the child placed with a good family and kept tabs on him, and so far she had raised nearly a quarter million dollars for victims of domestic violence. “Where is the fund-raiser?”
“At the club.” Sara shot Beth an apology. “Sorry. I know it’s the last place you want to go, and I wouldn’t ask, but it’s important. We need rent-subsidy money and the kids need fun stuff—swing sets, bikes, and—”
“I’ll donate a million if I can skip it,” Beth seriously bargained.
“I’ll take your million, but the goal for tonight is to raise two million. I need you there to guilt them into it—and to work on Darla Green to donate that Airport Road property. It’s perfect for rent-subsidized apartments for women with kids, trying to get on their feet.”
“I thought that’s why we bought that land up north from Race Miller.”
“We did, but it’s so far out and there’s no public transportation.”
Both of which they knew before buying it. “So get them a bus or something.”
“No, it’s too remote.” Sara looked guilty. “Race’s wife, Aline, said the average response time on 911 calls is about twenty-five minutes. That’s just too long.”
“Mark Taylor could put in a great security system, Sara. Like he did at Ben’s house.”
“I know—and the one at Three Gables is great. But I—I just don’t want them there.”
Odd. She’d been wild about the idea. Settled on it before she’d even told Beth about it. Why the big change? Boy, a whole lot of things with her lately just weren’t making sense. “Okay, I’ll work on Darla. What are we gonna do with the land we got from Race?”
“I don’t know yet. But Airport Road would be perfect for the moms.”
“You are remembering airports have planes and they make noise, right?” Beth caught Sara’s glare. “I’m just saying.”
“It’s a grass strip and rarely used.” Sara stilled. “Please, Beth. It’s Robert’s friends and I don’t
“Not now. I … can’t. When I can, I will.” Sara slumped, spotted a card on the counter and snagged it. “Oh no. The fund-raiser’s tonight.”
“Tonight? It’s midnight.”
“No, tomorrow—Sunday night.” Sara wrung her hands. “I can’t do it, Beth. It’s Robert’s group.”
Beth supported the charities, but socials with Robert’s snooty friends left her cold. “One day you’re going to knock this off and stay away from them. You give in to panic and it just gets stronger. Pray on it instead. Have you prayed on it?”
“I can’t pray on this.”
“Of course you can. You can pray on anything.”
“Not on this,” she snapped. “You don’t understand.”
Sara rarely snapped. Beth studied her. “Then explain it to me.”
“It’s best that I don’t.” With a trembling hand, she shoved her hair back from her face. “Just go in my place.” She passed the card. “It’s for the moms.”
Something weird was going on that terrified Sara a lot more than the attack. NINA, and yet this was worse? Fear slithered down to Beth’s bones. “Is the reason you can’t pray connected to the warning you gave me—about protecting myself from you, and you from yourself?”
Sara didn’t answer.
It did connect. Whatever it was, it was worse than bad, and there was no way Sara was going to talk about it. Beth tugged at her sleeves. “Okay, I’ll go.”
In the past year, Sara had taken an intense interest in domestic violence and single moms. It started eight months ago with a case at the crisis center, which often took roll-over 911 calls when the department was short staffed. A four-year-old boy had phoned in and said, “My daddy killed my mommy.” Sara had taken the call, and on learning most stayed in violent situations because they lacked the means to get out of them, she began a fund-raising blitz thatshe was still on. She wanted to adopt that little boy, but Robert wasn’t ready for kids. Sara had seen the child placed with a good family and kept tabs on him, and so far she had raised nearly a quarter million dollars for victims of domestic violence. “Where is the fund-raiser?”
“At the club.” Sara shot Beth an apology. “Sorry. I know it’s the last place you want to go, and I wouldn’t ask, but it’s important. We need rent-subsidy money and the kids need fun stuff—swing sets, bikes, and—”
“I’ll donate a million if I can skip it,” Beth seriously bargained.
“I’ll take your million, but the goal for tonight is to raise two million. I need you there to guilt them into it—and to work on Darla Green to donate that Airport Road property. It’s perfect for rent-subsidized apartments for women with kids, trying to get on their feet.”
“I thought that’s why we bought that land up north from Race Miller.”
“We did, but it’s so far out and there’s no public transportation.”
Both of which they knew before buying it. “So get them a bus or something.”
“No, it’s too remote.” Sara looked guilty. “Race’s wife, Aline, said the average response time on 911 calls is about twenty-five minutes. That’s just too long.”
“Mark Taylor could put in a great security system, Sara. Like he did at Ben’s house.”
“I know—and the one at Three Gables is great. But I—I just don’t want them there.”
Odd. She’d been wild about the idea. Settled on it before she’d even told Beth about it. Why the big change? Boy, a whole lot of things with her lately just weren’t making sense. “Okay, I’ll work on Darla. What are we gonna do with the land we got from Race?”
“I don’t know yet. But Airport Road would be perfect for the moms.”
“You are remembering airports have planes and they make noise, right?” Beth caught Sara’s glare. “I’m just saying.”
“It’s a grass strip and rarely used.” Sara stilled. “Please, Beth. It’s Robert’s friends and I don’t
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