Evening Stars. Susan Mallery

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      Andi smiled. “Funny how that works.”

      The microwaved dinged. Nina dropped the tea bag into the steaming water and crossed to the table.

      The eat-in kitchen was open, with painted cabinets and lots of granite. The big window by the table took advantage of the east-facing views in the old house. The mainland shimmered only a few miles away.

      Andi had bought the house—one of three up on the hill—when she’d moved to Blackberry Island. Undeterred by the broken windows and outdated plumbing, she’d had the house restored from the framework out. During the process, she’d fallen in love with her contractor. Which had led to her current tummy problems.

      “Your first appointment canceled,” Nina told her.

      “Thank God.” Andi sniffed the tea, then wrinkled her nose and took a sip. “It’s the ginger. If I could have tea without ginger I think I could get it down.”

      “The thing is, the ginger is the part that settles your stomach.”

      “Life is perverse like that.” Andi took another sip, then smiled. “I like the shirt.”

      Nina glanced down at the pattern. “Betty and I go way back.”

      One of the advantages of working for a pediatrician was that cheerful attire was encouraged. She had a collection of brightly colored fun shirts in her closet. It wasn’t high fashion, but it helped the kids smile and that was what mattered.

      “I need to get back downstairs,” she said. “Your first appointment is now at eight-thirty.”

      “Okay.”

      Nina rose and started toward the stairs.

      “Are you busy after work?” Andi asked.

      Nina thought about the fact that she was going to have to go by the pawn shop and pick up what Tanya had tried to sell, then spend several hours at Blackberry Preserves, her family’s antique store, figuring out what had been stolen, then tell her mother what had happened and possibly lecture her on the importance of actually following up on a potential employee’s references. Only she’d been lecturing her mother for as long as she could remember, and the lessons never seemed to stick. No matter how many times Bonnie promised to do better, she never did. Which left Nina picking up the pieces.

      “I kind of am. Why?”

      “I haven’t been to Pilates in a week,” Andi said. “It’s important I keep exercising. Would you go with me? It’s more fun when you’re along.”

      “I can’t tonight, but Monday’s good.”

      Andi smiled. “Thanks, Nina. You’re the best.”

      “Give me a plaque and I’ll believe it.”

      “I’ll order one today.”

      * * *

      Nina counted out the number of happy fruit and vegetable stickers she had. Just enough, but she would have to order more.

      Since opening her practice, Andi had started a program of inviting local elementary school classes into her office as a field trip. Kids learned about a basic exam, were able to use the stethoscope and check their weight and height in a nonthreatening atmosphere. Andi’s goal was to make a visit to the doctor less stressful.

      Nina handled the scheduling and conducted the tour. Each student left with a small goodie bag filled with the stickers, a small coloring book on different ways to exercise and a box of crayons.

      Normally the gift bags were filled by their receptionist before the event, but she had forgotten the stickers last time, so Nina had taken over the task.

      She was in the middle of lining up the open goodie bags for quick filling when her cell phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket and checked the name, then pushed speaker and set it on the break-room table.

      “Hi, Mom.”

      “Sweetheart! How are you? We’re fine, but you were right, as you usually are.”

      Nina grabbed crayons from the big bag of them on the chair. “Right about what?”

      “The tires. That we should have replaced them before we left. We had snow last night.”

      Nina glanced out the window at the sunny skies. She could see a few clouds pilling up against the horizon. Rain later that afternoon, she thought.

      “Where are you?”

      “Montana. It was coming down like you wouldn’t believe. We had about four inches, and the tires just couldn’t handle it. We skidded off the road. We’re fine now. Bertie found a Les Schwab store and the man there was just as nice as the one back home.”

      Nina sank onto the only free chair in the break room. “You were in a car accident?”

      “No. We skidded. Not to worry. We’re fine. The new tires are very nice. We went to several estate sales and more antique stores than I can count. We’re filling the van with so many beautiful things. You’re going to love what we’ve found.”

      She kept talking. Nina closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, telling herself that her commitment to eat her brownies one at a time had not made any reference to wine, and when she got home that night, she was taking a bath and having a glass. Then she’d have her breakdown.

      Bonnie Wentworth had given birth to her oldest at sixteen. She hadn’t settled down when she’d become a mother, and she sure wasn’t settled now. Bonnie and her partner, Bertie, traveled the country on “buying trips” for their antique store. Antique being defined very loosely in this case. Junk was probably more accurate, but even Nina avoided the “j” word as much as possible.

      She drew in a breath as her mother talked about a handmade doll Bertie had found.

      “Mom, Tanya was caught trying to sell inventory to Jerry this morning.”

      Bonnie paused. “No,” she said, sounding stunned. “I don’t believe it.”

      Nina resisted the need to point out that Bonnie never believing it was the main problem.

      “This is why I want to do the interviewing. Or, if not me, then at least let Bertie do it.”

      “Are you sure she wasn’t selling something of her own?” Bonnie asked. “She seemed like such a nice girl. I hate to think of her doing something like that.”

      “Me, too. You know this means the store’s closed.” Again.

      There was silence. “Do you want us to come back? We could be there in a couple of days.”

      “No. I’ll find someone.”

      Nina knew that if she asked, her mother would come home and run the store while they found someone. But then Nina would feel guilty, like she did now. And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.

      “Sweetheart, you take on too much.”

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