Linnie ignored him. She stroked the head of Fluffster, curled on the backseat floor, and smiled humorlessly. “Let’s review our mission, see how we’ve fared. Storming the enemy’s camp at Timberline Tavern? No converts there. Pleading with Mrs. Arioli to give poor Wren a fucking break? Wuh-wuh. Enlisting Jane Cannon in the struggle for justice? Nope.” She grunted a laugh.

Maggie stared. She closed her mouth.

“Jesus.” Caleb stepped on the gas. “What is your problem?”

“I have no problem. In fact, I have the answer. People suck. They don’t change. And it’s stupid to expect otherwise.”

Maggie sat up straighter, not liking the implied insult to herself (a little naive maybe, but not stupid) and her mother (sad and scared, but that didn’t mean she sucked—and how the hell did Linnie know about Mom and Wren anyway?). She ordered her shoulders to relax and answered lightly, “Hopefully, we’ll have better luck tomorrow in Baldwinsville.”

“With what? I have no idea why Sam’s so hot on my stopping in the old neighborhood.”

“But that woman, Mary…”

“Tate.” Linnie made a sound of disgust. “With the mystery letter. It’s a goddamn letter! Why doesn’t she just mail it?”

“Maybe she’s afraid you’ll toss it in the garbage if it reaches you that way,” Caleb suggested.

Linnie flung back her head and closed her eyes. “We are not stopping in Baldwinsville.”

Maggie said, “But we promised Sam—”

“Sam can go fuck himself.”

Fluffster whined.

“If there’s something important for you to learn from Mrs. Tate,” Maggie said haltingly, “shouldn’t we—”

In a fierce rush, Linnie interrupted: “I never want to go back to that place. I’m not asking you to revisit your nightmare. Why would you ask me? Don’t make me compare my shit with yours, Margaret. Don’t make me go there.”

The dog barked. Caleb shushed him.

Maggie squeezed her hands together to stop the trembling. Linnie was right. “I’m sorry.”

Caleb gave her a sympathetic glance, then sent the sympathy Linnie’s way in the rearview mirror. “All anyone hopes for in this car right now is for people to be happier and healthier.”

“Speak for yourself!”

The dog whined again.

In a quieter tone, she bit out, “I have no such hope. I am not waiting for joy.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Caleb asked.

Linnie didn’t answer. She stared out the window, briefly touching the glass. “Can we just go straight home tomorrow? Without stopping in Baldwinsville? Please?”

“I guess so,” Maggie said, “if that’s what you want.” At Linnie’s slight nod, Maggie turned around, frustrated. She folded her arms, stared at the streaming darkness, and willed Linnie’s pessimism not to infect her.

For the rest of the drive back to Carlton, no one spoke another word.

18