The Lost Women of Lost Lake Read Free Page B

Tessa in three years. Don’t you think we owe them a visit? And beyond that, the last week of rehearsals for any play is crucial. If Tessa misses a day or two, it could be fatal.”
    Tessa and Cordelia had a lot in common, in Jane’s opinion. They were both drama divas.
    â€œIt’s an Ayckbourn farce,” continued Cordelia. “A staple of small community theaters. I’ve directed it so many times that I can jump in quickly. I don’t have anything pressing at the Allen Grimby right now, and Melissa’s on assignment in Rochester. Sure, Tessa might be able to find someone to carry her on a bier to the theater for the final rehearsal on Wednesday night, but before that, we have to get through the tech stuff. The preview is scheduled for Thursday. Once the play opens, the director becomes irrelevant. I’m not saying I would become irrelevant.”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œA few days of my time is all she needs. Jill said they’d give the two of us adjoining rooms. All meals comped. Come on, Janey. What are friends for?” She raised her eyebrows, tilted her head toward the car in the drive. “We’ll have a blast. It’ll be just like old times. You and me tearing up the backroads. Cruising the lake on the pontoon. Cannonballing off the dock. Playing shuffleboard by flashlight. Remember those caramel rolls they make at the Jacaranda Café in town? Ambrosia.” She kissed her fingertips.
    Jane and Cordelia had been friends with Tessa and Jill for nearly twenty years, ever since Cordelia had produced and directed one of Tessa’s plays at the Blackburn Playhouse. While Jane’s partner, Christine, had been alive, they’d visited Thunderhook at least once every summer. And because Tessa was a dedicated foodie, and Jill loved the cross-country ski trails at Lebanon Hills in Apple Valley, they usually came down every winter and stayed for a week. Cordelia was right. They both had great memories.
    â€œAnd we wouldn’t be gone that long,” said Cordelia, continuing to make her pitch.
    In Jane’s opinion, Tessa could be a lot of fun, but she was also a true pain in the ass. “She can’t be an easy patient. I’m sure Jill could use some help.”
    â€œYou could do a few meals. And I could handle the rehearsals.”
    Jane crossed into the living room, to a picture window overlooking Blackberry Lake. A black man in denim overalls and a canvas boonie hat sat in a rowboat a few hundred yards from shore, his fishing line in the water. Mouse relaxed in the sun at the end of the dock, keeping him company. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can leave him. He’s only been here a few days.”
    A. J. Nolan was a retired homicide cop who worked these days as a private investigator. In early May, he’d taken a bullet in the stomach—a bullet that was meant for Jane. She already loved him as a friend, and now she owed him her life.
    â€œHe’ll be fine,” said Cordelia, searching through the refrigerator for another soda. “He’s just here to recuperate. He can do that with or without you. Don’t you have any more blackberry soda?”
    â€œTry the clementine.”
    She dug around. “Nolan’s got his car, so he can drive himself into town if he needs groceries.”
    Jane had a couple more weeks before she had to return to work. She’d invited Nolan out to the cabin to stay as long as he liked. His digestion was still giving him problems, as was his back, although he was growing stronger every day. If she did agree to go with Cordelia—and she had to admit that she was tempted—she and Nolan would still have some time together when she got back. He didn’t have any pressing reasons to return to the Twin Cities and seemed to be enjoying himself fishing and just hanging out. “Let me talk to him.”
    â€œI’ll help.”
    â€œNo. Just me. And if I catch any