“Not exactly. You know, I guess everybody knows that Preston and I are good friends.”

Now it was Lucy’s turn to smile. “I have heard something about it.”

Renee rolled her eyes. “Sassie’s mom gives him the evil eye every time he comes over.”

“She’s very protective,” said Lucy.

“Whatever,” said Renee, with a huge sigh. “Anyway, Preston isn’t on the team but his little brother, Tommy, is on the JV team. And Preston says Tommy tells him there’s all kinds of weird stuff going on, especially at that summer training camp they have.” She leaned closer to Lucy. “He makes them play Twister—naked!” She giggled. “I’m going to get the game and take it to France next summer. The cousines will adore it. But there’s other stuff, mean stuff. He says Tommy got pretty upset about it.”

A little idea popped up in Lucy’s brain. “Did you tell anybody about this?” she asked.

Renee shrugged. “Just my mom.” She waggled a finger at Lucy. “And that’s another thing that’s different in France. Girls are a lot closer to their mothers there, they tell them everything, and their mothers don’t give them a lot of grief like Sassie’s mom. She wants to keep Sassie a baby forever. Not like my Tante Marie. She accepts that her daughters are growing up and gives them helpful advice.” She paused. “And birth control pills.”

Just then the door flew open and Frankie marched in. “Can you believe it? After all that, the guy was a no-show!” She stamped her foot. “I hate it when that happens.”

“Well, Mom, you were late. Maybe you missed him.”

Lucy wondered who was the mother and who was the child in the LaChance household. Frankie soon set her straight.

“That’s enough from you, Miss Smarty-pants,” she snapped. Then her tone softened. “Were you able to help Mrs. Stone?”

“She was terrific,” said Lucy. “You should be very proud of her.”

“Oh, I am,” said Frankie, slipping an arm around her daughter’s waist and kissing her on each cheek.

Amazingly, Renee didn’t push her away but returned the gesture. Lucy was so impressed by the open and affectionate atmosphere between mother and daughter that she decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Listen,” she said, making eye contact with Frankie, “you don’t have to tell me, and everything here stays here like it’s Las Vegas, but I can’t help wondering if you’re the person who’s been sending anonymous letters to the Pennysaver?”

“Oui, c’est moi.” Frankie grimaced and added a little shrug.

“Mom!”

“The hazing seemed so terrible and I wanted to do something to stop it.” She shook her head. “I thought people would be outraged, but so far, nothing. The paper never printed my letters.”

“We never print anonymous letters. If you’d signed them, we could have witheld your name.”