At half past nine that same Thursday, while Tess was having supper at Jo's, Alma's call pulled Mara from a shallow doze. The coach booking page was still open on her laptop, June's key on the table. The community center's evening classes were nearly done. Alma asked whether Mara could come to the public entrance. She did not say Owen was inside. Mara left the page open, picked up the house key with her car keys, and went.
Nita was by the desk with a stack of children's drawings. The rear door had stayed shut. Owen had called the center's manager instead, saying he understood Tess Rowan or June's people would collect Alma after her Friday closing shift. He had described a private departure the staff might want to keep quiet. The manager, frightened of placing Alma or the center in the middle of it, had taken Alma off the shift while they “sorted out the question.” Nita pronounced the phrase as if it tasted stale.
Alma was in an office whose window looked onto the square. Her timesheet lay in front of her. Friday's closing block had been crossed out in blue ink. “Six hours,” she said when Mara entered. “I had rent figured with them in it.”
“Did they offer another block?”
“Two hours next week. Maybe. They called it a precaution and then told me I could still attend tomorrow's staff meeting.” Alma turned the timesheet around, as if Mara might see a hidden wage on the back. “I warned them about him. The door was changed. They let him choose my schedule over the telephone.”
Ren had already arrived. He sat with his coat on, not taking notes until Alma asked. Mara stayed standing until Alma pointed to a chair. She nearly offered to cover the six hours, then looked at the crossed-out block again.
“What did he say about Tess?” Mara asked.
“He said she was organizing a pickup after my shift. He named June and made it sound like we had all agreed to something secret. The manager wouldn't tell him where I was. That part worked. But now she wants to know why another family is making plans around my work.” Alma's laugh broke in the middle. “I want to know too.”
“There is no pickup,” Mara said.
“I know. You know. He doesn't believe Tess when she says it. The manager says she can't decide whose story is safe.”
Ren asked whether Alma wanted him to request the decision in writing. Alma said yes, along with the reason and the offer of replacement hours. “I may not get any of it,” she said. “I want them to have to tell me what they did.”
Nita tapped on the open door. She had stayed late to make sure the desk would refuse Owen if he came in person. Alma thanked her. They had spoken earlier that day about an entrance; now they were speaking about a telephone and a lost shift. Nita set the drawings on the desk, then took them up again.
After Ren left, Mara walked Alma to the bus with Nita. Alma did not tell Mara to come back tomorrow. She said she would ask if she needed Mara's log. Mara respected the sentence until she reached her car, where June's house key lay in the cup holder.
Nell was waiting on June's street, not at the door. She wore a coat with one pocket torn loose. Mara had asked her to meet there because she could not think of another place Owen would not look. She had not told Tess. Each step toward Nell made that fact louder.
“I can give you one night,” Mara said. “The house is empty. Tess and I are sorting it. Don't take anything. Call me if Owen comes.”
Nell looked at the key without taking it. “You spoke to Tess?”
“No.”
“Then this isn't hers to offer.”
“It's mine to answer for.” Mara put the key in Nell's hand. She did not feel brave.
Nell opened the gate, then stopped. “I need to get out of the city. June would have found a car. You still know drivers.”
“I won't arrange an anonymous ride.”
“That's what you did for her.”
“Alma isn't going anywhere. There's a coach, Nell.” Mara took cash from her purse, enough to help with a coach ticket and some food. She held it out. “There is a five-ten departure tomorrow from the station. Buy the seat in your own name. I can take you to the public station entrance if you want.”
Nell counted the notes, embarrassed and angry. “I asked for a route, not a lecture.”
“I know.” Mara almost offered to call a driver. The names came readily to mind, good people she could ask to make a quiet trip. “I'll give you an answer on anything else tomorrow,” she said. It was a delay, and she knew it. “Tonight, stay here.”
Nell unlocked the door. June's hall light came on. Through the window Mara could see the old armchair and a strip of white sheet over a side table. Nell stood in the doorway for a moment like a person at the wrong funeral. Then she went inside.
Mara drove home. She had meant the coach ticket to replace a clandestine ride. She had given Nell a house key behind Tess's back, which would make every claim of a clean alternative sound thin. Before she had taken her coat off, Nell sent a photograph of a booking confirmation: Friday, five-ten, Nell Voss. Paid. Mara put her phone facedown.
She considered calling Tess. She should have called before the key changed hands. Now a call would be a confession with Nell asleep under June's roof and Tess given no say in whether to come. Mara dialed anyway. Tess's line rang twice, then went to voicemail. Mara could have left the whole thing in one message. She said only, “Please call me when you can. It's about June's house.” She knew that was not enough.