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what’s the deal with Clarissa and the knitters?” I tilted my head toward the table where Isabel and Mavis had been sitting. Only Selma remained.
    Vi shifted in her seat to look. She shook her head as she turned back toward me.
    “That’s a very sad story,” she said. “Mavis’s daughter, Teresa, and Isabel were best friends in high school. Teresa was horribly bullied and eventually took her own life.”
    “Oh, that’s terrible,” I said.
    “Mavis has always blamed Clarissa. She was the leader of a mean-girl pack and Isabel claimed that they targeted Teresa after an incident with a boy. It seems Teresa lured Clarissa’s boyfriend away and she never let up after that.”
    “Why did Isabel have the conference here if she knew Clarissa would be here?”
    Vi shook her head. “I don’t think she knew. Isabel and Jessica had a bit of a dustup when we all arrived. Isabel said Jessica should have told her, and Jessica said she would keep Clarissa away from the knitters.”
    “What are you two whispering about?” Mom leaned over to look at us.
    “Nothing, Rose. Just filling Clyde in on the situation with Mavis and Clarissa.”
    “Oh. Let’s not ruin our dinner talking about that,” Mom said. “When I think of what poor Mavis must have gone through . . .” Mom’s eyes welled up. She grabbed her water and took a sip.
    Silence fell over the table and we focused on our food. Lucille finally broke the tension.
    “I wish Isabel had included a class on spinning yarn. I’vealways thought it would be fun to spin my own yarn and then knit something wonderful with it.” Her eyes held the kind of gleam Vi got when talking about the pendulum.
    “That sounds fabulous,” Mom exclaimed. I sensed she was just glad to change the subject.
    “I wouldn’t know the first thing about what kind of fleece to spin or how thick to make it,” Vi said.
    “That’s why I wish there was a class.” Lucille took a sip of wine. “I’ve been thinking about buying an alpaca from that farm outside of Crystal Haven.”
    Mac choked on his chicken and I pounded his back.
    Lucille glanced at Mac and continued. “I could keep it in my garage in the winter and spin its fleece. I wonder if I need more than one—how many alpacas do you need for a sweater?”
    Fortunately, Wally began clearing plates, and Mac was able to gain control of himself.
    “I don’t think I could eat another bite, but I heard the desserts are the chef’s specialty,” Mom said.
    The hair on the back of my neck prickled, the lights flickered, and the room plunged into darkness.
    Someone screamed. A plate shattered on the floor.
    “Everyone stay calm,” Wally announced. “I’ll go get some flashlights.” He crashed through the dining room, bumping into tables on his way out.
    I heard muffled whispers and the shifting of chairs.
    Mac raised his voice to be heard over the mutterings around the room. “Let your eyes adjust to the dark,” he said. “I’m sure Wally will be back in a moment.”
    As if on cue, Wally clicked on a large flashlight that he shone in everyone’s eyes before realizing he had blinded us all with its brightness.
    “Oh, sorry everyone. I have some flashlights here,” hesaid as he pointed his light at the ground and made his way to the tables, passing out the lights.
    “We only have a few of these, but Jessica went to get some candles,” Wally said. “Unfortunately, we do lose power occasionally during severe storms. We have a backup generator and it should be working momentarily.”
    Murmurs spread as people clicked on their lights and checked to be sure their friends were okay.
    “Why don’t we all move into the lounge?” Wally swung his light toward the door. “The fire is warm and bright, and we can have coffee while we wait for maintenance to get the power up and running again.”
    The flashlights and promise of coffee had improved the mood of the room. Scraping chairs, giggles, and exclamations of “just like camping!”