“I’m sure I’m on everybody’s side,” Gemma said disapprovingly. “We’re all on the same side, after all. We’d realize that if we only took the time to determine our true interests.”
“Right,” Kelley said. “You tell that to the Bethlehem school board when it wants to put in a language lab and it doesn’t have the money because the Celebration’s been shut down.”
“I don’t want to talk about the Bethlehem school board,” Gemma said. “I want to talk about Tisha. She’s supposed to be leaving for Montpelier in just about fifteen minutes, and once she does, we’re going to have to have a policy. In advance. If we don’t have a policy, the old ladies are going to end up running right over us.”
“The old ladies are going to run right over us anyway,” Kelley said. “They always do.”
Gemma wanted to protest that they did nothing of the sort—Gemma wasn’t the sort of person who let other people run over her—but Kelley had gotten out of her chair and wandered off to the room’s single window, and there was something about the way she was standing at it that made Gemma pause. Head cocked, hands in the back pockets of her jeans, one foot rubbing the calf of the other leg—what could she possibly be looking at? Gemma came up behind her and stared over her shoulder at what seemed to be undifferentiated white. There was nothing to look at out there, not even a bird. Then the scene shifted into sharp focus, and she understood. The rectory property bordered the Verek property on one side. Because the rectory was on a much higher hill than the Verek property was, and because of the way Jan-Mark had had his trees cleared, they could look right down into the Vereks’ drive.
Gemma backed away a little, put her own hands in her own pockets, and said, “Oh.”
“Oh?” Kelley asked her.
“Well,” Gemma said, uncomfortable. “It’s not nice, is it? Spying on people, I mean.”
“Well, you can’t see anything important,” Kelley reasoned, “just people getting in and out of cars and driving away or coming home. I was looking out here earlier, while you were on the phone. I was thinking what a perfect spot it would be.”
“Perfect spot for what?”
“For a sniper,” Kelley said lightly. “There have to be dozens of people in town this morning who would love to see Tisha dead before she got a chance to go to Montpelier. This would be a perfect place to kill her from. You could just stand right here at the window and aim something really accurate, one of those fancy rifles Stu Ketchum is always carrying around. You’d be so far away, the hick cops around here would never be able to figure out where you’d done it from. Or who you were, either.”
“The hick cops around here would probably have the sense to call in the state police,” Gemma said sharply. “What’s all this talk about guns? You know how I feel about violence.”
“I know how you feel about everything, practically. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Feel? You’ve made a profession of it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No,” Kelley said wearily. “You probably don’t.”
Gemma watched her walk back to her chair and drop down in it, looking tired. “This isn’t like you,” she said to the back of Kelley’s head, when Kelley had turned around again and begun to pretend to be working on her essay. “I don’t know what’s got into you this morning. You were just the way you usually are at breakfast.”
“I’m just the way I usually am now. You aren’t used to paying attention. I wish you’d go take the phones off the hook or something and leave me alone. I really do have a lot of work to do.”
“I don’t believe that’s true,” Gemma said tightly. “I think you’re playing games with my mind. I think you’re trying to punish me.”
“For what?”
“How should I know? In spite of the way you’re behaving, I can’t believe it’s over Tisha Verek and her silly lawsuit.”
“Of course you can’t.”
“Tisha Verek isn’t important. She’s just—God’s chosen instrument, that’s all. She’s just a vessel.”
“You should know,” Kelley said. “You’re the one who’s sleeping with her husband.”
And with that, Kelley Grey picked up her much-battered Sony Walkman, jammed the earphones in her ears, shoved the switch to “on” and closed her eyes. She had the music up so loud, Gemma could hear faint strains of “Silent Night.” Gemma stared at the back of Kelley’s head and then at the window and then at the back of Kelley’s head again. She wanted to break some furniture or smash the Walkman into fragments. She did neither.