“The important thing is that she was there for you,” said Frankie, waving her fork for emphasis. “That’s why I went into real estate—so I could be home for Renee. At first I only worked during school hours and, now that I’ve built up my clientele, I pretty much work from home. I’m here when she needs me.”

“I have flexible hours, too,” said Lucy. “For me the problem is getting Sara to tell me what’s on her mind.” Before she quite realized what she was doing, Lucy was pouring out her worries about Sara and the way the football players were harassing the cheerleaders. “The only way we’re going to stop this is if somebody goes public, but I can’t get Sara to tell me what’s really happening and she flat-out refused to let Ted, he’s my editor, interview her for the Pennysaver.”

“You can’t blame her,” said Frankie. “No one wants to be a whistle-blower, especially at her age. She wants to be popular.” She nodded knowingly. “These girls will do anything to be popular.”

“Has Renee talked to you about this?”

“Renee is old for her years.” Frankie took a sip of wine and held it in her mouth, savoring it, before she swallowed. “She spent six weeks in France this summer, with her cousins. She came back very sophisticated.” Frankie grinned. “She thinks American attitudes to sex are silly. At least that’s what she says. I suspect it’s not quite that simple for her.”

“There’s going to be a meeting Thursday night, about rumors of hazing on the team. Will you go?”

“Of course.”

Lucy put her fork down and sat back in her chair. Wine with lunch was a terrific idea. She felt relaxed and completely at peace. “It’s so quiet here,” she said. “You don’t even get road noise from Red Top Road. And Prudence Path seems deserted.”

“It seems like that but it isn’t really.” There was a little gleam in her eye. “There’s a lot of coming and going.”

Lucy swallowed the last of her wine. It seemed as if Frankie had something she wanted to tell her. “I noticed you didn’t join the chorus at the bus stop yesterday when Fred was arrested. Do you think somebody else did it?”

“I don’t think Fred did it, that’s for sure.” She paused, refilling her glass. “Those other women, they don’t really know Fred. He’s a good guy.”

Lucy swallowed hard. She had to ask. “I’ve heard rumors that you know him extremely well.”

Frankie nodded. “I do. He asked me to sell those new condos he’s building on the other side of town and we’ve been working together on a marketing plan.”

So much for the grapevine, thought Lucy. “Is he the sort of guy who’d abuse his wife, like they say?”