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college back East and ended up marrying Bryce’s mother.” They turned into the Livingston farm.
    “What’s that got to do with the place falling apart?”
    “You have to go in, Jessie.” Her mom handed Jessie her music books.
    “What’s wrong with Rita?” asked Jessie.
    “I think she’s an alcoholic. She had her driver’s license taken away after she got caught driving and drinking.” She turned off the ignition. “Then Max died and Rita is unable to help or hold down a job, so the farm’s gone to ruin. That’s the story. Please keep it to yourself.”
    Jessie opened the passenger door. “Does Mrs. Livingston drive—like to the store for groceries?”
    “Good question,” said her mother. “She must have some way to get around, but I haven’t seen a car or truck on the place.”
    “Maybe they keep a car in the barn.” She closed the car door and ran to the farmhouse.
    Mrs. Livingston heaped praise on Jessie for the work she had done at the piano that week. “You have made fine progress. I am impressed.” She went to her shelves and drew out a thin book with a shiny black cover. “I think you are ready to play a real melody.” She opened the book and played a simple but lovely tune. Jessie could hardly wait to learn it.
    They were deep into the lesson when Mrs. Livingston laid a finger across Jessie’s hand to still the music. She raised her head in a listening position.
    Jessie glanced at her watch. “Is that a car? It’s too soon for my mom to be back.”
    The teacher stood and rushed from the studio. Jessie heard the front door open and Mrs. Livingston shout, “Rita, Rita, come back.” When the woman returned to the studio, her steps were slow and her shoulders drooped.
    “Is everything all right?” Jessie asked. She was pretty sure what had happened. Rita had taken off in some vehicle she wasn’t supposed to be driving.
    “Yes, yes,” said the teacher. She sank into her chair by the piano. “I think we will stop now and you can go over your assignment while you are here.” She stood and pressed open the book to the correct page. “That way, if you have any questions, I’ll be able to answer them.”
    While Jessie read over the lesson plan, she could see the teacher standing by the big window gazing at the endless field of grass.
    When the hour was up, Mrs. Livingston opened the door to let Jessie out. “Your mother isn’t here yet. Do you want to wait outside?”
    “Sure,” said Jessie. The door closed behind her. I wonder if Rita came back, she thought. This is my chance to look around. While Jessie took a little tour of the barnyard, she tried to appear casual, in case Mrs. Livingston or Rita was watching. First she showed great interest in the discarded equipment, checking the claws on the hand plow, looking underneath the rusted-out tractor and stepping back to study the machines from a different angle. Next, she climbed onto the rickety corral rail, hoping it wouldn’t collapse under her weight. After that, she strolled to the old barn where she stood at a distance and viewed it as if she intended to make a drawing of it or something. The big double doors of the barn hung crookedly from ancient hinges. When she moved closer to run her hand along the wood, she took a peek through a wide crack in the boards. All she could see was a pile of junk. The hasp on the door was undone. She reached out to open it when she heard a car drive into the yard. Uh-oh, she thought. She turned. It was her mom.
    “Come on, Jessie. We have to hurry.”
    As Jessie snapped her seat belt, she said, “Where’s Phillip?”
    “He’s with the sitter. After I take you home, I’m going to Dad’s office.” She turned the car onto the country road. “Don’t try to distract me with talk of Phillip. What were you up to just now?”
    “Well, in the middle of my lesson, we heard a car start up and Mrs. Livingston got pretty upset,” said Jessie. “So I was just going to peek in the barn and see