peeked through a crack in the barn door. Libby’s school counselor stepped out of her car and walked to the front of the farm house.
“Dammit.” What did the nosy bitch want?
Marge opened the barn door and looked back at her unfinished work spread over several tables. The rest would have to wait until she got rid of the woman. She puled the heavy door closed and secured it with a padlock.
She trudged through tal grass to the front of the house.
Morning dew licked at her beat-up boots. As she appeared around the corner, the woman from school, a prissy look painted on her face, knocked on the front door.
“What do you want?” Marge barked.
The woman jumped, almost losing her purse in the process.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Colecting herself, she offered a slender hand. “Hi, I’m Julie Orman, we met last year when . . .”
“I know who you are. What do you want?” Marge glared at the woman in the fancy slacks and heels.
“I wanted to speak to you about Libby.”
“What’d she do now? I doubt she’d dare steal again.” She looked horrified. “No, nothing like that. Actualy it’s more of an opportunity.”
Marge immediately lost interest and turned to dismiss her. “I was working. Cal me later.”
Julie folowed on Marge’s heavy heels. “I’ve been caling for the past week and you never answer my cals or return my messages.”
“Like I said, I have a lot of work to do and don’t have time to chitty chat about the girl.”
“This won’t take more than a few minutes. It’s very important to Libby.” As they came around the edge of the house, Julie carefuly stepped through the damp grass. Marge wanted to return to the barn, but couldn’t with this woman on her tail.
“Do you work in there?” Julie asked indicating the dilapidated barn. “What do you do?”
Marge didn’t care for the woman’s eager look. She clenched her teeth. This woman asked too many questions. She needed to get rid of her and fast, before dealers started showing up.
“I make soap.”
Marge glared at her.
Surprise etched Julie’s face. “How wonderful! Libby never mentioned your business. Where do you sel it? I’d love to buy some.”
Marge grunted in reply, then turned back toward the front of the house, the school woman pussy-footing behind her. She went to the front door, puled keys from her saggy denim pocket and unlocked the door. One good shove and it opened. With the woman inside, she’d be too distracted to keep asking about the barn.
She entered, then turned abruptly. “Get on with it, what do want?”
“Oh,” the woman responded, gripping her purse. “Libby doesn’t get a lot of interaction with other students,” Marge pierced her with an angry stare. “She’s at school al day, what do you cal that?”
“Actualy, Libby keeps to herself a lot and she is carrying a very heavy course load with al her honors and AP classes.” Marge watched the woman peer around the entryway and into the cluttered living room and kitchen. Nosy twat.
Libby had recently cleaned up, but piles of trash, dirty dishes and junk already littered the tables and counters. The counselor’s gaze took in everything.
“Get to the point.” Marge puled Julie’s attention back to her.
“Homecoming is next week and Libby needs to attend.” She stood taler and assumed an authoritative air.
“You came al the way out here and interrupted my work, so that kid can go to a dance?” This woman had guts. For the past year, Marge easily kept Libby under her thumb. The last thing she needed was Libby to start going out with friends. A boy bringing her home the other night was bad enough. Outsiders asked questions and the more Libby stayed isolated, the easier it was for Marge to keep her business going.
“Yes, it’s part of her high school experience. Every student should enjoy this rite of passage.”
“I never went to a school dance and it didn’t hurt me a bit.” No one ever invited her.
Like Libby, Marge always had her head in a book and earned top grades. Her younger sister, Susan, Libby’s mother, went everywhere. Susan always moved with a huge passel of friends and had more than a couple of guys sniffing after her. Only one year older, she should have had the fun, but Miss Popularity stole the spotlight. Where Susan was a natural beauty Marge felt awkward and like an odd duck. She never measured up to her younger sister.
Even when she went off to Berkley on a