Death Before Facebook

Forget censure. Steve’s wisecracks alone would keep me quiet.
    Okay, the thing seemed benign enough, but so did Christianity until it got into the hands of lunatics. How did Kit play as the David Koresh of the witch world?
    Skip honestly wasn’t sure. It did seem a little odd that she was hanging out with a group of women so much her junior. Neetsie had a nose ring and a mother who apparently thought she was Blanche DuBois. Lenore was the sort who’d always be into something. Drugs, A.A., witchcraft—whatever happened along. Suby seemed pretty self-possessed, but her dad was a bully, and she’d responded quickly to Skip’s bullying. These women might be vulnerable.
    What in the name of Sekhmet was Kit up to?
    She headed for the den of the lion.
    Kit was in jeans, gray cotton sweater, and an apron. Seeing Skip, she turned pale. “Has something happened to Lenore?”
    “No. Why would you think that?”
    “I don’t know. It’s Saturday. I thought it might be an emergency.”
    “I just wanted to talk to you.”
    “Well, would you mind coming in the kitchen? I’m in the middle of a sweet potato pecan pie. For—uh—well, Lenore.”
    “You two seem very close.”
    “We talked about that, didn’t we? We’re each other’s only family right now. Besides…”
    She let the sentence trail off, leading Skip through a surprisingly ordinary living room, no occult symbols in view, only a lot of books and some sewing projects. The sofa and a comfortable-looking chair were covered with an earth-toned floral fabric.
    She had the light on in her kitchen, which was cheery and at the moment flecked with flour.
    Skip would have preferred a more formal interview—in the living room, say—but it was Saturday and she had barged in. She settled for standing when Kit asked her to sit.
    “You were going to say something?”
    Kit was measuring brown sugar. “I was?”
    “You’re Lenore’s only family. Besides…”
    “Oh. Well, I really shouldn’t talk about Lenore’s problems. But believe me she has them. We’re in—how to say this without being indiscreet?—we’re in a private conference on the TOWN that’s a place where people can go for a particular kind of help. I’m kind of her big sister there; it’s how we met, actually.”
    “I see. A Twelve-Step conference—something like that?”
    “That’s close enough.”
    “You seem to be an inspiration to a lot of young women.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “I’m thinking about Cerridwen’s Cauldron.”
    “So that’s it. Suby phoned a few minutes before you got here. I should have realized you’d want to know more.”
    “I gather you’re quite the charismatic leader.”
    She turned toward Skip and brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen in her face. “That sounds a little accusing.”
    Skip said nothing, simply waited her out.
    “I’m not even slightly charismatic. Look, it’s this way. After my second marriage broke up, I had a bad bout of depression, and I started working with depressives. I’m a psychiatric nurse, but besides that I do a lot of volunteer work, some of it on the TOWN.”
    She gave Skip a hard stare to make sure she understood her point—she wasn’t exactly giving away anybody’s secrets, but she was making it easy to connect the dots.
    “You know when you’re depressed how people tell you to get something spiritual in your life? I found when I was in therapy, I had a lot of dreams that…” She opened her refrigerator and took out eggs. “It’s hard to talk about this stuff. They were dreams that pointed in a certain direction. And to make a long story short, I got into this stuff. I already knew Lenore from the TOWN, and when I moved here, I got her involved in it because I thought it might help her the same way it did me. She took to it like she was born for it, and she got Neetsie interested. Lenore knew Suby through Geoff, and of course Neetsie and Suby always wanted to meet each other— they were sort of like cousins who weren’t really related. So… we have other people, but that’s the core of our happy little group. Sometimes, though, I have to admit I wish there were more… well, what I’d call adults. You wouldn’t want to come sometime, would you?”
    “Me?” Skip almost laughed, getting a mental image of herself wearing a weird outfit and frolicking with a bunch of murder suspects.
    She said, “Thanks. I’ll think about it. Could I ask you something else?’
    “Sure.”
    “How do you