what to say.
“That’s what I thought,” Lila said. “Besides, you’re the one who told me I needed a project.”
Letting the quilt slip from her shoulders, Pepper said, “So take up knitting or go back to school. If anything happens to you, your mother is going to have me drawn and quartered.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Scooping up the quilt and handing it back to Pepper, Lila added, “You’re staying, then?”
Pepper followed her inside, muttering all the way to the kitchen where she topped off her coffee. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. It seems I’m, or rather, I’m not, um, let’s just say I’ve run into a little difficulty regarding my finances.”
“What sort of difficulty?”
Pepper pulled a face. “My family has cut me off.”
“You mean financially? What did they do? Freeze access to your trust fund? And you didn’t tell me?”
Sighing, Pepper said, “You have enough problems of your own. Besides, it’s only until I agree to assume my rightful place in the bowels of monotony. I told my grandfather not to hold his breath, and he told me to stop acting like a spoiled little heiress. At that point, I probably shouldn’t have reminded him that I’ve been taller than him since I was thirteen.”
Oh dear. Pepper’s grandfather had a very serious Napoleon complex. “He really froze access to your trust fund unless you do as he says?”
“And my dad’s backing him up. My mother doesn’t like it, but everyone knows Grandfather and Daddy run that show.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to, but I have to remind you I don’t have much money, either.”
“I know. I have a little money left in my emergency fund, but it’s going fast. This may sound drastic,” Pepper said, “But I think I’m going to have to get a job.”
“You’re going to go to work?”
“It isn’t as if I don’t want to work,” Pepper said, justifiably defensive. “It’s just that Kelly Rippa already has my dream job.”
Lila made a clicking sound with her tongue. “There is no justice. But don’t worry, we’ll think of something.” Suddenly this felt like old times, and she added, “We’re in for an interesting summer, there’s no doubt about that.”
“If we’re lucky,” Pepper said drolly, “we might even both live to tell about it.”
“I don’t believe in luck.”
“I know. You believe in destiny.” Pepper sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “If we’re destined to spend our summer here, we’re going to need more information about Noreen McCaffrey.”
We? Lila nudged her friend away from the coffeepot and helped herself to a cup.
Pepper’s expression was composed as she focused her attention on the situation. And Lila knew that even this early in the morning, Pepper was formulating a plan.
CHAPTER 5
When Lila was growing up, her mother often said she was too curious for her own good. Evidently, that hadn’t changed. Why else would she stop what she was doing to answer the door?
The woman on her front porch wore a wide-brimmed hat and a tentative smile. “I’m Katherine Avery. You might have noticed my antique store on Rebellion Street. I understand you’re interested in selling some of Myrtle Ann’s pieces.”
If the fiasco last fall had taught Lila anything, it was to proceed with caution. “What makes you think that?”
Katherine Avery removed her hat and fanned herself with it, the man-made breeze stirring her chin-length dark hair. “Your friend mentioned it to Trudy at the diner. Trudy told Ginny Calhoun. I believe it was Ginny who told Irene Motz, who was trying on the new nautical sweaters at the dress boutique while your friend was talking to Priscilla, the owner, about possibly working there. Regardless, it was Irene who first mentioned it to me.”
Lila’s dismay must have shown, because Katherine tilted her head slightly and said, “My mama used to say the rumor mill is the wireless telegraph in its purest form. May I come in?”
Feeling a surge of anticipation of something pleasant, Lila opened the door. Katherine came in as if she knew her way around. She examined a lamp on the hall table, a stack of old books, and finally the table itself, her hands gliding lovingly over surfaces, a finger touching here and smoothing there. When she came to a ledger Lila had discovered an hour ago, she leafed through pages of columns of amounts and prices of vegetables and fruit sold by the peck and bushel. “After Harlan died, Myrtle Ann supported herself from the proceeds of a fruit and vegetable stand. This is quite a find, you know.”
It was only one of many such items Lila had come across. All morning she’d been going through bureau drawers and cubbies crammed to bursting with buttons, recipes, receipts, used wrapping paper and the mail. Once considered a personality quirk, psychologists today viewed hoarding as a symptom of a mental condition associated with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Lila was of the opinion that people who hoarded saw potential in everything.
Where would she be if Myrtle Ann hadn’t seen the potential in her?
Sorting through all the clutter and chaos was bringing a sense of order and a deeper understanding of the former owner of The Meadows. It was an unusual way to get to know someone.
Katherine was looking at the tall armoire in the corner the way a mountain climber might look at Annapurna. Reverently placing her hand on the front panel, she said, “This has the original finish. Myrtle Ann always did know how to care for old treasures.”
“Were you a friend of Myrtle Ann’s?” Lila asked.
“In a way, perhaps, but she wasn’t what you’d call a people person. Folks said she was crazy, you know.”
“Was she?”
“Not any crazier than the rest of us.” Katherine’s gaze caught on her own reflection in an antique mirror and she seemed a bit startled.
“Is something wrong?” Lila asked.
“Sometimes I don’t recognize myself.” She colored slightly, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Experience and training kept Lila silent, but she continued to watch Katherine closely.
“I walk past a mirror, and I wonder, who is this person? I look vaguely familiar, but I bear little resemblance to the face I’m expecting. I miss—”
When it became apparent that she didn’t plan to finish the statement, Lila asked softly, “What do you miss?”
Katherine seemed to be running through a mental checklist. “I suppose I miss the woman I thought I’d be by now.”
“You miss the woman you thought you’d be and I miss the woman I thought I was. My situation forced me to remove my rose-colored glasses, but psychologists call the phenomenon you described
