Her rage blew as hot and as dangerous as the outback wind on parched grass. She wanted to throw Libby to the ground and punch and scratch her in the same way she’d once fought Tegan Drinkwater when she’d called her a slut. Like Linda fought when a woman stole her wallet. But street fighting didn’t belong in Libby’s world.

As much as Jess hated the idea, the time had arrived. She had to play the game Libby’s way and use the polite guidelines for conflict resolution. It had taken Jess five drafts but she’d finally sent a carefully worded email requesting a meeting with the presence of a mediator. It was exactly the sort of thing she knew Libby suggested to patients who were dealing with challenging health issues.

An email Libby had failed to respond to so far.

Jess hit refresh on her mail app again, willing the dots on her phone to stop spinning and for the mail to load. Eventually, two emails tumbled in. The second was from Libby.

“About freaking time!” It didn’t take long to read the brief correspondence that was devoid of both a greeting and a sign off. It was barely two lines in length.

With or without a mediator, there will never be an occasion or a reason that will induce me to meet with you. You’re dead to me.

Jess screamed at her phone.

Leo squealed in fright.

Then her stomach heaved and she vomited onto her feet.

“Knock, knock.”

Alice spun around from her computer and saw her father standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Dad?”

Unlike her mother, Peter didn’t comment on the chaos in her room. Or the fact that Alice had retreated to it on the weekend. Or that she was hiding from her life. “What are you doing home?”

“It’s perfect fishing weather so I took off early. Thought you and I might head out?”

After this morning’s one-sided argument at breakfast, where Karen had vented, “It’s like you’re avoiding us,” and Alice had remained mute, because in this instance her mother was correct, Alice knew Karen would have insisted Peter take the afternoon off to “talk to Alice.” This fishing trip was more to do with fishing for information than about landing bream.

But Alice wasn’t up to telling anyone that her body was defective, let alone her parents. It would be yet another area of her life where she’d given them cause to worry. It was easier to lie.

“Lovely idea, Dad, but I’ve got a Gazette deadline.”

He nodded, disappointment clear on his face. “Well, if you change your mind …”

“Thanks.”