“You’re never late for the things that are important to you.”
“This was important to me. Spending time with all of you...it’s important to me.” The tone Jocelyn used suggested Steph had hit a nerve. And she knew she had. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.
Jocelyn was dedicated to her theater company, to her friends, and to training for her first marathon. She worked hard to show up on time for those things, but there was always something that caused her a delay, usually exactly what she said happened. She’d get in the theater and nothing else mattered.
Rachel and her friend were back to talking about Jack Swisher. Several others had joined the group, and the conversation had risen by several decibels. When someone suggested they should invite Jack to join them on their Wednesday night runs, Jocelyn touched Steph’s arm.
“You want some air?”
“I’m fine.”
“I know you are.” Jocelyn tilted her head toward the sliding door. “Let’s go outside anyway.”
The patio was cold but not brutal, the sky overhead clear and pricked with stars. The ground was dry—they’d had over a weeklong stretch without fresh snow. Steph leaned against the railing.
“Should’ve grabbed our jackets,” she said, pulling her hooded sweater up over her ears.
“At least it’s a dry cold,” Jocelyn said with a shiver.
“We should go back inside.”
“In a minute.” Jocelyn let out a breath that blew steam. “You’re not being petty, you know. Your feelings are legitimate.”
“I never said I thought I was being petty.”
“True, but I know you.”
Steph exhaled, causing her own steam puff. “I’ve been giving time and money to that event for six years. Nobody put my name on anything, and I wasn’t asking them to. That was fine. That was the right way to do it.” She paused. “He shows up with a big check and an Olympic pedigree, and everyone acts like he invented the concept of community investment.”
“I know.”
“I’m not jealous of his money.”
“I know that too.”
“I mean, how much of it’s even his money? At least some of it must have come from Liam Dixon, from his family’s money.”
“And I know what you think about them.”
“Right. I mean . . . ” Steph stopped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Only that I know what you think about the Dixons.”
“You had a tone.”
“No tone.” Jocelyn shook her head.
“You think I don’t like Liam Dixon because Sheriff Hepner doesn’t like him.”
Jocelyn shrugged. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure you have your own opinions.”
Steph tightened her mouth. She did have her own opinions, but Jocelyn wasn’t entirely wrong. That wasn’t the point, though.
“It’s not even about Liam Dixon or Jack Swisher giving money. I want them to give money. The organization needs it.”
“What’s it about then?”
“It’s the—” Steph stopped and looked out at the stretch of yard beyond the patio as she slowly shook her head. “He’s building something that could undercut everything I’ve spent years putting together. And people are excited about it. People I know and like are excited about it, and I can’t even say they’re wrong to be, which is the most irritating part of all of this.”
