Tradition of Deceit Read Free Page B

dead, Roelke. Rick is dead.”

Two
    Chloe felt relief as she drove west on US Highway 12. Other than worrying that her decrepit Pinto would crap out, and feeling guilty for burning gas instead of using public transportation (which wasn’t available near her house anyway), she loved road trips. And the timing for this particular trip was, evidently, good. She was still confused about Roelke’s mood when they’d left the wedding reception. Had the wedding itself put him on edge? Taking a date to a wedding was dicey. Had he worried that she might misinterpret the evening? Was he afraid that she might think he was getting more serious than he really was?
    Lovely, she thought. Just when things had actually been going pretty well.
    Six inches of snow blanketed the landscape, but the sun was out and the roads were dry. Once in the Twin Cities, she drove with scribbled directions clutched in one hand. She only got confused a couple of times before finding the bridge to Nicollet Island, in the Mississippi River. She parked in front of a cottage painted yellow and purple and patted the Pinto’s dashboard in thanks.
    Two people came outside to greet her. The woman was almost lost in a bulky fisherman’s sweater. She was slight, with big gray eyes and dark hair wound into a bun. Her features were delicate, even fragile. But the hug she gave Chloe was a bone-crusher.
    â€œYou’re here !”
    Chloe grinned. “It’s great to see you too, Ariel.”
    â€œDo you remember Toby?”
    Toby Grzegorczyk, a head taller that his sister, looked like a lumberjack. Chloe extended a hand. “We met in Cooperstown once, right? Good to see you again.” She and Ariel had gone through the Museum Studies program in New York.
    Toby smiled. “Nice to see you also.” He kissed his sister’s cheek. “I need to get on the road, kiddo.”
    â€œThanks for the help.”
    â€œThat’s what big brothers are for.”
    Chloe and Ariel waved as he drove away. “I hope he didn’t leave because I was coming,” Chloe said.
    â€œNot at all. He came down from Duluth yesterday because an elderly neighbor gave me an antique china cabinet, and I needed help getting it into the house.” She gestured toward the cottage. “Welcome to my place.”
    Chloe was diverted by a chicken pecking for grubs in the next yard over. “Funky neighborhood!”
    â€œIt’s quite bohemian. That makes rent affordable for someone racking up student loans like pinball points.” She led Chloe inside.
    â€œHow’s the Ph.D. program going?”
    â€œI’m at the stage where the end seems nowhere in sight and I can’t figure out what the heck I was thinking.” Ariel hung their coats on a hall tree. “How long has it been since I’ve seen you? It was before you moved to Switzerland.”
    â€œGeez, seven years or so, then. I’ve been back in the states for a couple of years.”
    â€œI want to hear all about everything .” Ariel checked her watch. “We’re set to meet a couple of people at the mill this afternoon, but we have time to eat first. Just give me a minute to throw the salad together.”
    While Ariel worked, Chloe studied her friend’s home. Like her own place, the décor was largely thrift-shop chic, with a few honest antiques, including the spectacular cabinet now displaying Ariel’s collection of flow blue china. Degas prints and black-and-white photographs of contemporary ballerinas provided an unexpected accent.
    â€œAre you still dancing?” Chloe asked.
    â€œI try to squeeze in a couple of classes a week.”
    Chloe studied a shot of Ariel. The photographer had captured her suspended in the air, one leg forward and one stretched behind in an impossible split, arms graceful, face serene.
    â€œThis picture is amazing,” Chloe said. Her dancing of choice involved ethnic folk costumes, hand claps