Page 73 of The River We Remember

“You, too?” Charlie said to Colleen.

“Yes,” the older girl replied.

Bridget had come outside now and stood beside her sister on the front porch.

“I used to do all the cooking in my house when I was your age,” Charlie told them.

Bridget said, “Was your mom sick, too?”

“No, Bridget, she was dead.”

“I’m sorry,” the girl said.

“It was a long time ago,” Charlie assured her. “How long before that cinnamon bread is finished baking?”

Colleen glanced back toward the kitchen. “A few minutes.”

“Would you be willing to talk to me for those few minutes?”

From the moment she’d opened the door, Colleen had been reticent to speak. Now her eyes turned wary. “About what?”

“Girls, I’m representing the man accused of killing your father.”

“Noah,” Bridget said.

“Noah Bluestone, yes.”

“I like Noah.” It was clear from the distressed look on the girl’s face that the whole situation confused and saddened her. “We don’t think he had anything to do with what happened to Daddy, do we, Colleen?” When her sister didn’t answer, Bridget went on, “Please do whatever you can to make sure he doesn’t go to jail.”

“Could we sit?” Charlie said, indicating the swing that hung from hooks in the porch shade.

Colleen thought it over and finally said, “Okay.”

Charlie sat between them. “Your mom’s pretty sick,” she said. “Do you mind me asking what’s wrong with her?”

Colleen smoothed the apron on her lap. “She has ALS, what a lot of people call Lou Gehrig’s disease. My dad’s first wife had it, too. She was Mom’s cousin. I guess it runs in their family.”

Bridget said, “She was supposed to go to the Mayo Clinic for some new kind of treatment.”

“But now she’s not?” Charlie asked.

“The treatment’s been rescheduled,” Colleen said. “With my father dead and all.” She spoke politely, but there was a businesslike tone to what she said.

“You two do most of the cooking?”

“Mom does sometimes, when she’s feeling strong enough. But mostly it’s Bridget and me, now that Kyoko’s gone.”

“J.P. helps,” Bridget said.

Colleen nodded. “Yeah, J.P. helps. He’s pretty good with things like barbecue and chili.”

“And pancakes,” Bridget threw in.

“It must be hard around here with your father gone.”

“It wasn’t all that easy when he was here,” Colleen said. Her voice was different now, more personal, as if her guard was dropping. “He never helped around the house.”

“Before Kyoko came to help, did he ever consider hiring a housekeeper or cook, someone to give you all a hand?”