He grabbed a pile of dirty laundry and threw it into the closet hamper. “I can’t go tonight, Amy. You’ll have to find an excuse or go without me. I have a ton of work to do and I probably shouldn’t have gone to the lake.”

She agreed internally—she, too, probably shouldn’t have gone to the lake.

Her brief bubble of elation over Carol Anne’s news deflated. She stood, fingered the back pocket of her jeans, slid her finger inside and rubbed the scrap of paper. She yanked her hand away.

“We’ll skip tonight,” she told her husband. “I have papers to grade, anyway.”

There was no use getting into an argument; he was preoccupied, and it would be a fruitless discussion leading to her inevitable frustration. She turned and headed for her office, her papers and the distraction of her work.

Molly flipped her tennis racquet back and forth between her legs in the passenger seat. The radio spurted forth a thumping beat from a song Amy had never heard before and didn’t care to hear now. Her head was dense, full with dreams, thoughts and frustrations—with an overwhelming need to know, just know, what telegram Nick was talking about.

She reached over and switched off the radio, rolled down her window. Molly glanced at her but didn’t speak, rolled down her own window and stuck her head out. Molly laid her head on the windowsill and looked behind the car, her hair wafting up, the end of her ponytail slashing in the wind. She pulled her head back in and looked at her mother.

“Are you staying for my match, Mom?”

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

Molly shrugged.

“I know I’ve seemed busy. The school semester is winding down and the art fund-raiser is in a couple weeks. But I’d never miss a final match . . . not yours.”

“Okay.” Molly looked out the windshield, stood her racquet straight up and leaned against the dashboard on top of it. “Mom? Is Dad coming?”

“No, babe. He’s got some big meeting with Mr. Stevenson. I think this promotion might finally come through.”

“Okay. You know, he’s never missed a final match.”

“And I’m sure he won’t miss many more. This was really important.”

“I know, I know. Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Where do you think time goes?”