We take Chase’s car because it’s quicker. The town is deserted and closed up for the night, but he knows a wine bar that’s attached to the Snow Ridge hotel on the way out to the ski hill. The hotel itself is fancy—the kind of place moneyed weekenders would stay at before returning to their corporate jobs in Denver or LA—and the wine bar’s still open, jazz blaring from the sound system. It sounds frenzied, wailing, upsetting.

“Have you been here before?” I ask. Never before have I seen so many suits and Rolexes in Moses River.

“I come here all the time.” Chase waves at the bartender. “I get a special rate because they know me.”

“When do you come here?” I ask, and he looks worried again.

“For work things,” he says. “If marketing associates come from other resorts, we always host them here.”

“Oh, okay.” It’s the first time I’ve ever wondered if there’s anything else I don’t know about him.

We sit in the quietest corner, if that’s possible, since all of them are spot-lit by expensive lighting, overhung by speakers, hemmed in by plush cushions and low, polished tables. When the barman approaches, Chase orders a gin and tonic, but all I can stomach is ginger ale. Neither of us speaks until the barman leaves.

“Where were you all evening?” he asks.

“Just walking around.”

“On your own?”

“Yes, Chase. I swear.” There’s a long silence. “You can ask me, you know. You have a hundred questions, I can tell.”

He exhales. “I really only have one. Why couldn’t you tell me earlier about your brother?”

I lower my hands to my lap. “How much do you know about him?”

“That he died in an accident on the farm when he was really little. It’s awful, Alex. I feel horrible for you. And I don’t know why you didn’t tell me.”

A pocket of stress is swelling in me, spreading out as it rises. It’s a pressure that has to get out.

“The truth of how Pim died is hard for me to think about, even now. It happened so long ago. My parents were out, and he fell into a grain truck. Ruth was the oldest. She was in charge.”

The bartender brings drinks and leaves.

“But … was she to blame?” Chase asks.

I wait a beat. “Like I said. My little brother’s death was an accident. But Ruth was supposed to be looking after him. She knew better than us, and she failed. She didn’t keep him safe at all. It’s the worst thing she could have done.” I move my drink farther away from me on the table. “I was close with my mom and dad until my brother’s death left this big brick wall between us. We never got past it.”