What Janie Found Read Online Free Page B

study. Police reports. I probably need to assassinate somebody.
    But this was a chance to dump Reeve and Brian. When Janie went back into that folder, it must be without people who could read her thoughts.
    She opened her door before Lizzie could get closer. I’m never letting anybody get closer again, she thought. Distance is the thing. I can keep Lizzie at a distance. Wedding talk will do it. “What did you decide, Lizzie?’” she asked, in a voice as fluffy as a summer gown. “Long? Short? Flowered? Satin?’”
    “Huh?’” said Brian.
    “This is about dresses,’” Reeve explained. “Lizzie’s getting married. She’s home to make wedding plans. I’m an usher, Janie’s a bridesmaid. Come on, Brian, we’ll file folder later.’”
    Janie shot him a look. He made a time-out signal with his hands and said quickly, “We’ll ask Janie if she’ll let us file folder later when she file folders.’”
    Before, when Reeve signaled capital T, it meant: Time to be alone together. Now it meant: Don’t yell at me. I’m stupid, but I’m nice.
    Janie followed Lizzie into the Shields house. Reeve and Brian trailed. “When is the wedding?’” asked Brian.
    “July twentieth,’” said Lizzie, as if nothing else could ever happen on that date. It was hers. She owned it.
    Mrs. Shields flung open the door. Reeve’s mother might be fifty-five and chubby, but she was hopping up and down like a little girl with a jump rope. She was a happy woman. She had never expected Lizzie to have a traditional wedding. Or any wedding.
    “Hello, everybody!’” caroled Mrs. Shields. “How’s your mother holding up, Janie?’” She didn’t wait for an answer. “You will love the fabric Lizzie chose! It’ll look so nice against your red hair.’”
    Janie could not picture Lizzie choosing fabric. Choosing candidates for sheriff, maybe, but cloth?
    Out came measuring tape and a little notebook covered in white satin and lace.
    “Tell me you didn’t buy that yourself,’” Janie said. Lizzie’s accessories generally had sharp edges.
    Lizzie turned a little pink. “I had to write the details down in something, didn’t I?’”
    “Wow,’” said Janie.
    “Throws you off, doesn’t it?’” agreed Reeve. He shot Janie the twinkle-eyed grin she used to adore. I still adore the grin, she thought, I’m just not sure of the person behind it.
    Reeve poked Lizzie. “Just when you think you know your tough old sister, she turns out to be this sentimental, waltzing—’”
    “Reeve, don’t start anything,’” said his mother.
    “Lizzie started it,’” said Reeve.
    “William, actually,’” said Lizzie, looking soft and pretty.
    Janie had a sudden wave of nausea and had to cross the room, pretending interest in stacks of brides’ magazines with Post-its marking their pages. Don’t start anything. If I go back to that folder, I’m sure starting something. Or finishing it.
    But if I don’t go back to that folder, the facts are still in it.
    If only I hadn’t agreed to handle the bills while Daddy’s sick.
    If only.
    My whole life comes down to that: If only.
    “Lizzie darling, while you have your notebook open,’” said Mrs. Shields, “let’s schedule the bridesmaids’ luncheon.’”
    “Cut,’” said Lizzie. “I’d be bored.’”
    That was the Lizzie they knew and occasionally liked—as long as she didn’t stay too long.
    “Well, at least choose the restaurant for the after-rehearsal dinner,’” said her mother.
    “No rehearsal. We’re grown-ups. We know how to walk down an aisle.’”
    Even Janie had to laugh. Lizzie was edging up toward romance, but she couldn’t quite touch it. How astonishing that Lizzie could be more romantic than Janie. “At least we’ll have great dresses, right?’” she said to Lizzie. “Let me see the picture of my dress. What am I wearing?’”
    Lizzie opened her notebook to the page where she’d taped magazine cutouts of the gowns she had chosen. Reeve and