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Esther
Esther saw her granddaughter coming across the lawn and tried to get to her before she saw what was written on the church sign, but there were so many people between her and Zoe that she couldn’t quite manage it. She watched Zoe’s eyes grow wide and her mouth fall open.
“Everyone!” Esther said, desperate to distract them from the filth that had been left on their lawn. “This is my lovely granddaughter Zoe!”
Zoe flinched at her words, and Esther wished she hadn’t used the word lovely. Of course Zoe was lovely in her eyes, but she could see why Zoe might not believe it. She was tall and strong, and, with the way she was currently presenting herself, not very feminine.
Esther put her arm around Zoe’s waist and turned to face her family. “This group here is the Puddy family. And that there is Walter Rainwater.” Her voice faltered a little on his name, embarrassing her. She hurried to add, “And of course, you already know Rachel. And this is Emma.” It occurred to Esther that Zoe and Emma could be friends. Emma was quite a bit younger than her, but stranger things had happened.
“What happened to your sign?”
Esther let out a long breath. “This sign is brand-new, and we don’t know what happened to it. I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious what happened to it. Someone profaned it, but we don’t know who.”
Emma mumbled something under her breath, and Mary Sue elbowed her.
Oh yeah, Mary Sue might be another friend for Zoe! Esther tried to stop herself. Zoe might not want a bunch of eighth-grade friends.
“Who did it?” Zoe asked.
Hadn’t she just said they didn’t know?
Zoe was looking at Emma. “You said you know who did it, so why you holdin’ back?” There was something different in Zoe’s voice—a toughness, but it didn’t sound convincing to Esther.
Emma looked scared. “It’s only a theory.”
“We have no proof,” Mary Sue hurried to say. “But there is one girl in town who likes to do stuff like this, that’s all.”
“Who?” Zoe pushed.
Still, the girls hesitated.
“Who?” Esther repeated.
Emma looked at the dead grass by her toes. “Isabelle Martin.”
“Ohh,” Lauren Puddy said thoughtfully. “That is a possibility.” She looked at Esther. “Should we call the police?”
“Again?” Mary Sue said.
“What?” Zoe said, looking at Esther. “How often do you call the po-po around here?”
Emma snickered, probably at Zoe’s use of the word po-po.
“No, let’s not call the police just yet,” Rachel said. “We can start with Isabelle’s mother. And right now, we need to get to worshipping the Lord. That’s what we came here to do.”
Esther wasn’t sure, but she thought Zoe groaned. She smiled at her granddaughter. “Right this way.” She swept an arm toward the church steps, proud as punch that her granddaughter was about to walk into the building with her.
Rachel fell into step behind them. “You look nice, Zoe.”
Again, Zoe flinched.
“The color of your shirt looks great with your hair.”
“Thank you,” Zoe mumbled.
Esther stood on her tiptoes to get closer to Zoe’s ear. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, but I’m going to try to convince you.”
