She rubbed her brow.
Gram walked past, her purse slung over her shoulder. She was wearing one of her staple outfits for special occasions—a pair of blue cotton pants and matching blouse.
“Where are you going?” Jo asked, and removed the towel from her head. The thick tousles draped over her shoulders, soaking her T-shirt almost instantly.
“Frank Heil called an association meeting.” Gram shot her a sideways glance and continued for the door.
“I’m coming with you.” She tossed the towel onto the kitchen table and ran her fingers through her hair.
Gram stopped and stared at her. “Why? You were never interested in these meetings before.”
“Well, I am now.”
* * *
They piled into Gram’s Oldsmobile, a big green four-door sedan Pop had bought her before he had died. He had joked about how Gram couldn’t hurt herself if she happened to bounce off a few trees in what he nicknamed the Loch Ness, a battle-ax of a car. It had been five years since he had passed of heart failure right there in the cabin in his bed, sleeping peacefully next to Gram. It wasn’t until the next morning that Gram had become aware he was gone. Since then, the Loch Ness endured several run-ins with posts, curbs, and Jo’s bumper, but so far it had stayed away from any trees.
Jo smiled on the inside, remembering Pop, the father she loved. He had been a good man, a solid man who had been grounded in his beliefs of right and wrong, who had tried not to judge her or her decisions, although in the end, he had done just that. And still, at times like now, she missed him all the more.
Gram backed out of the parking space, nicking the fence post. “Holy crow’s nest,” she said, and threw the car in drive.
Jo held onto the oh shit handle as Gram ran over every pothole on the way to the Pavilion. She blew past the stop sign on Lake Road and slid into the parking lot. Her usually open face was closed in a stern expression, a look she typically reserved for Jo. Then again, Frank Heil and his association meetings had that kind of effect on Gram and most people around there.
They got out of the car without talking. Jo followed Gram in silence up the steps to the second floor, where the meeting was being held. Eddie was behind the bar. He squeezed Jo’s shoulder and leaned over to give Gram a peck on the cheek. For a second Gram’s face opened to him, but just as quickly it closed.
“He’s fired up,” Eddie whispered loud enough for both her and Gram to hear.
Heil was on the other side of the barroom with his cohorts. One was a man by the name of Stimpy, who owned the rental boats on the lake. The other two were local fishermen, and Jonathan, who owned not one but five cabins in the colony. They all had something to lose if the beach and lake remained closed.
Other cabin owners filtered in and took their respective seats around scattered tables, leaving Sheriff Borg to sit alone. It was a known fact that Heil had the sheriff in his back packet. Freebies at the Pavilion—swim passes, rounds of drinks at the bar—kept the sheriff on Heil’s side when it came to association matters and community affairs.
Small town politics sucked, and Jo was reminded why she avoided such meetings. She hated public debates and narrow-minded people. But she was here because she had to know if there was any news about the bones. She had to know if they were in fact Billy’s. She could hear Kevin’s voice inside her head telling her it didn’t matter whose bones they were, to get out of there, to leave the lake. But he had to know she couldn’t. Her guilt wouldn’t let her.
She took the seat next to Gram and scanned the crowd, concerned she might see Billy’s sister, Dee Dee. About thirty people gathered. She recognized each and every one of their faces, locals and seasonal cabin owners. Much to her relief, Billy’s sister wasn’t among them.
Heil took his position at the front of the room. He held up his hand and, like obedient children, they quieted in their seats and waited for the next command.
“We all know why we’re here. Tragedy, I tell you. And no one is more upset about this than I am.”
The people nodded and murmured in agreement.
Heil pulled his pants up high to cover his large belly. He rolled onto the balls of his feet in a power bounce. “But we must make a living in spite of what has happened here.”
“Are you planning on opening the Pavilion and beach tomorrow?” one of the cabin owners asked.
“Of course he is.” Jonathan spoke for Heil. “I’ve got renters who expect the full vacation experience on the lake, and that includes the beach and swimming. Hell, that’s all they’re here for.”
“He’s right,” someone said from the back of the room.
The crowd started talking at once. Jo tried to follow the outbursts, catching bits and pieces. “Besides, it’s gruesome, all this waiting around, watching them drag the bottom looking for that little girl’s body.”
“What’s taking so long?”
“Why can’t they find her?”
“And those poor parents, having to wait.”
“It’s not our fault. Why should we be punished?”
“We’re paying to swim and fish.”
“That mother should’ve kept a better watch on her kid.”
“You can’t blame the mother.”
“Why not? Where was she?”
“It was an accident.”
“Tragedy.”
“We’re losing money.”
“What about the bones?”
“Yeah, I heard they found some bones.”
“All right,” Heil said. “Everyone, calm down.”
Sheriff Borg stood and put on his sheriff’s hat. He rapped his knuckles twice on the table. The action caused the mob to settle down.
“Law enforcement is looking into the bones.” Heil shot the sheriff a look, and the sheriff nodded. “But that’s not our immediate concern. What we need to focus on is the business at hand.” He continued. “And that’s finding that little girl and getting the beach and lake reopened. What we need is to speak to the recovery team.”
“That’s right,” a woman from the corner bar piped in.
Heil turned to Stimpy. “Get out there and bring one of them fellows in. I have an idea.”
Excitement buzzed around the room. Everyone wanted to move forward, for summer vacations to continue as planned as if nothing bad had happened. The community at the lake, the locals and regular summer vacationers, had been through this kind of thing before. Tragic, yes, but no one sitting in Eddie’s bar ever thought it could happen to them, to their family, to their child. You never thought it could happen to you.
Gram sat perfectly still. Jo’s own spine was rigid, although her foot wagged at a ridiculous pace.
One of the men from underwater recovery climbed the stairs and entered the bar. He was average height with dark brown hair and eyes. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans. A yellow safety vest was strapped to his chest. He carried a matching yellow hardhat. He scanned the crowd of people, and by the time he finished, he was scowling.
Heil slapped his hand on the man’s shoulder and turned to his co-conspirators to quiet them down. All eyes focused on the two men.
“We have no doubt you’re doing everything you can,” Heil explained, sounding much like a politician. “But it’s over twenty-four hours that we’ve had the lake and beach closed. People pay for the lake experience. They expect to take their boats on the water and fish. Families expect their kids to swim.”
“I understand,” the man said. “We’re working as fast as we can.” He then added, “For the little girl and her parents.”
“Yes, for the girl and her parents,” Heil said. “But I have an idea that may help both the lake community and the family to move things along.”
“I’m listening,” the man said.