Laura shook her head, then described the incident. Though Cal had likely heard far worse in the boys’ locker room, he looked stunned when she reported what Katie had said.
“That’s not like Katie,” he protested. “Maddie would never tolerate language like that.”
“Believe me, I get that. So does Betty. She had to be highly agitated to resort to saying such a thing.”
“You really think there’s an excuse?” he asked, clearly surprised.
She nodded and explained her theory.
Cal listened intently, shaking his head as she described what she’d overheard at the fall festival. “That would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?” he said eventually. “I’ve been teaching for a long time now, and it still astounds me just how cruel kids can be to one another. I always figured boys did the most bullying, but obviously girls can have a mean streak, as well.”
“It’s shocked me, too,” Laura admitted. “And I guess I just never expected it from a girl who’s from a good family with all sorts of advantages. Maybe that’s the problem, though. Annabelle’s gotten away with a lot, and she’s come to feel she’s entitled to behave however she wants.”
“We still don’t have all the facts, though,” Cal reminded her. “This could be more complicated than we know.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is, but with Betty on the case, there’s little doubt we’ll get to the bottom of it. I have to say I’ve never seen her quite so furious or determined.”
“How was Katie when she left Betty’s office? Should I check on her?”
“I think she was mostly relieved that she wasn’t in trouble and proud of herself for defending Misty. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for you or Maddie to have another talk with her after school. Maybe she’ll open up this time, now that she knows it—whatever it is—is all going to come out sooner or later.”
Cal nodded. “We’ll do that. Thanks for filling me in, Laura. And if you need any backup on this, let me know. It makes me sick to think that Misty and Katie have been trying to cope with this on their own, that they haven’t trusted any of us enough to ask for help. I know Katie has a good relationship with her mother, and I thought she and I had a good one. It kills me that she was dealing with this and we didn’t know.”
“Well, they’re not on their own anymore,” Laura assured him. In fact, the team of people on their side was getting stronger by the minute.
Paula Vreeland knelt in her garden deadheading flowers and snipping dead stalks from the perennials in preparation for winter. Though she had soothing classical music on a nearby radio, the air was frequently laced with muttered curses about the various aches and pains that made doing one of her favorite tasks so uncomfortable.
“Grandma, I didn’t know you even knew words like that,” Katie said as she slipped into the yard through a back gate, an impish grin on her face.
Paula winced. “Just because I say them doesn’t mean you should,” she told her granddaughter sternly. “Now come over here and help me up, then go inside and pour us both huge glasses of lemonade. It’s much hotter out here than I realized.”
Katie helped her to her feet, then gave her a hopeful look. “Are there cookies, too?”
Paula gave her an amused look. “When was the last time I baked anything?”
“Not for a long time, but I know Liz Johnson stops by here on Thursday mornings and she always brings cookies.”
Paula laughed. “So, that’s why I get these surprise visits on Thursday afternoons. I thought it was because you love me.”
Katie embraced her in an exuberant hug. “I do love you,” she said. “More than anything.”
“Good answer, kiddo. Now get the lemonade and cookies—they’re in the jar on the counter like always—while I try to work out some of these kinks from being down on the ground so long.”
When Katie came back outside with their snack, she curled up on the chaise lounge in the sun. “How come you’re not painting this afternoon? Did you finish the picture you were working on last week? Can I see it?”
Paula shook her head. “I painted over the canvas. I wasn’t happy with the way it was going.”
The truth was, none of her paintings pleased her these days. After creating amazingly detailed botanical artwork for so many years, after showings all over the world and landing her art in several very prestigious collections, she seemed to have lost something. It was true her vision wasn’t what it had once been and her hand was less steady, but she thought it was more than that. Whatever it was, it made painting now more torture than passion.