It was hard not to worry about Zoe. The girl was too trusting, especially in light of the disappearances there’d been in the area over the years. Most were girls about Zoe’s age who’d come to the lake for summer jobs. As far as Jill knew, none of them had ever been found.
Jill felt sick remembering the year she was sixteen and the close call she’d had. It had been the only time she’d hitchhiked. Her first and last time.
Carefully, she dumped the flour and yeast into the large mixer and turned it on low as she added the warm water. Work was exactly what she needed. Work that she’d loved since those early days in her grandmother’s kitchen. Jill had always turned to work to help her get through the rough times, like four years ago when her mother died, or like the past few weeks when she’d known something was wrong between her and Trevor. This morning was no different.
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