“It’s not just Reg,” I said. I took a breath, and when I let it out, I exhaled a whole bunch of truth. “It’s Iowa and school and everything new. It’s being cooped up in a cottage that feels like a prison, and even when I step outside, each way I walk out our front door just takes me to another cornfield. It’s Sydney and Sophia at a funeral. It’s Reg onstage, doing better here than I am. It’s Sal telling us what to do and when to be home. It’s starting a new life when I never asked to stop my old one.”

Dexter let out a low whistle and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I don’t think I can sell a city girl on Iowa, and I definitely won’t say the right thing about funerals and death to someone who has lost her parents, but I can tell you this much: your brother is a cool dude, but he is not ‘doing better’ than you are just because he joined a few more extracurricular activities. And Sal—he’s your uncle, right?”

I nodded.

“He was a bachelor with his own pad,” Dexter said. “Now he’s got two teenagers to look after. That’s got to be tough. So, if he gives you a few rules to follow . . .”

“It’s more than a few.”

Lina appeared at our table with two steaming mugs of coffee.

Dexter took his and rolled it between his hands. “I’m just saying, maybe cut your uncle some slack.”

“Uncle?” Lina said, setting my coffee on the table. “Sal?”

I started in surprise. “You know Sal?”

“I do.” She was smiling, but her eyes were guarded.

“Everyone around here knows each other,” Dexter said. “And knows each other’s business. It’s kind of annoying.”

“I can see that,” I said.

“Welcome to life on the prairie,” Dexter joked. Then he said to Lina, “If you know Charlie’s uncle, maybe you’ve seen this cottage she claims to live in? It sounds pretty cool.”

“Define ‘cool,’” I deadpanned.

Dexter laughed, but Lina frowned.

“I know the place,” she said.

“Have you been there?”

It wasn’t quite the right question. Or maybe it was just the tip of a growing iceberg of questions about how she knew Sal, why she’d been to his cottage, what she knew about him and what else she might know . . . none of which I could ask in front of Dexter.

“It’s been a long time . . .” She was quiet, almost wistful, but then she hardened. “Not since he put up that awful fence.”

All my questions were instantly flushed away by a new load of questions, but I was keenly aware of Dexter watching us. Apparently, Lina was aware of it too, because she put on a smile and waved her serving tray with a casual air.