When they settled at one of the picnic tables scattered around the grounds, Skye said, “Darn, I should have asked Fayanne about the picture.”
“Honey, you got to be careful who you ask and how you ask them.” Charlie sawed a piece of meat from his pork chop. “You don’t want this getting back to Mona or Minnie.”
“So, how should I ask then?” Skye spread butter on a roll.
“Run get me a beer while I figure it out.” Charlie gestured to a group of metal troughs filled with ice, beer, and soda.
Skye made her way to the drinks and spoke to the white denim-clad derriere bent over the bins. “I’d recognize that butt anywhere.”
Trixie heaved herself upright from the tubs and waved two cans of Diet Coke triumphantly over her head. “Skye, what are you doing here?”
“Uncle Charlie invited me.”
“Owen thought this would be a good way to meet some of the other farm families in the area.” Trixie pointed to a serious-looking man engaged in conversation with two guys wearing Caterpillar gimme caps.
“I see he’s made some contacts.”
“Yeah, I’d invite you over, but you wouldn’t thank me for it. All their wives can talk about is canning and baking.” Trixie’s mobile features made a disgusted face.
“Thanks for the warning. Uncle Charlie will want his beer anyway.” Skye started off, but turned back. “You want to go to the beach tomorrow?”
“Sure. Is the afternoon okay?”
“I’ll pick you up about one.” Skye waved a can and left.
Skye stopped as she neared their picnic table. Sitting with Charlie were Gillian, wearing a low-cut chartreuse top, her husband, with his beer belly hanging over his jeans, and her daughter, with a scowl on her face. Skye took a deep breath. This was her chance to mend some fences and be nicer to her cousins. They had been very understanding about Skye’s involvement with their mother’s hospitalization, and it was time to start fresh and try to be friends.
Skye forced herself to smile as she sat down. “Hi. Any news about your mom?”
Gillian shot a meaningful glance at the little girl. “Kristin, can you get Mommy a can of pop?”
After the girl left, Gillian said, “No. I understand we have you to thank for not being able to see her alone.”
“So, you don’t think Mom tried to kill herself?” Gillian ran her fingers through her hair.
“No, I don’t.” Skye went over her reasons.
“Well, I don’t know if that makes sense or not, but I knew she didn’t attempt suicide.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a little psychic gift.”
Before she could stop herself, Skye blurted out, “Maybe you could exchange it for a nice sweater.” Damn, being nice to her cousins was going to be tougher than she thought.
Conversation deteriorated from that point, and it was a relief when Charlie suggested that they head for the dessert tent.
As they walked away, he took Skye’s hand and patted it. “You know that cousin of yours is a few peas short of a casserole.”
“Sometimes I’m afraid it’s genetic.”
Skye put a couple of chocolate chip cookies on her plate. All the sweets had been donated by the officers’ wives and were made from scratch.
Charlie picked up a piece of apple pie mounded with ice cream and guided her to another set of tables. Skye broke off a piece of the cookie, which oozed chocolate. She closed her eyes and savored the intense burst of flavor.
“I been thinking about how to show that picture around. How ’bout if you block out Mona and Minnie and just leave the nurse for people to look at?”
“What a great idea.” Skye found the photo in her purse. She also managed to find a pad of Post-it notes. After affixing one square to either side of the photograph, she showed it to Charlie. “What do you think?”
He forked the rest of the pie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Great. Let’s get to work.”
The old man shrugged and went back to talking about tractors. So far none of the people they had spoken to had recognized the woman in the picture.
Charlie seemed to thrive on the noise and the crowds. He greeted most people by name and easily joined their conversations. Skye found it difficult to keep people straight, and although some faces looked familiar, she could rarely remember who they were. Still, it was interesting to hear their opinions and listen to them talk about a Scumble River that existed before she was born. Maybe she’d ask Charlie about doing an oral history with some of his cronies.
The fairgrounds were bigger than she remembered. People walked on caked dirt and tried to avoid the many spots of mud. Several large pole buildings were interspersed with tents and food stands. These structures were made of huge sheets of metal supported with steel rods.
Representatives from local farm-related businesses handed out brochures and freebies. Skye spotted a cousin from her father’s side, Kevin Denison. He was there representing his insurance company, which reminded her that she needed to remind him about her checks. Now the company owed her for both her car and her windows.
Charlie stopped at a group of older women gathered around a picnic table. “Good evening, ladies, do you all know my goddaughter, Skye Denison?”
The women murmured hello and Charlie told Skye their names. At the last one he said, “And this is Hilda Quinn. I believe she went to school with your Aunt Mona and your Aunt Minnie.”
“My, yes. I was in Minnie’s class and Mona was two years behind us.” Hilda’s bright blue eyes darted from Charlie to Skye.
“Skye, would you mind waiting here while I take care of some business? I’m sure these ladies will take good care of you.” Charlie winked and walked away before she could answer.
With the focus of attention clearly in her direction, Skye smiled and sat down. She wasn’t sure how to start, but the others had no qualms.
A woman with meticulously styled hair said, “We’re very sorry about your family’s troubles.”
Skye nodded her appreciation, wondering if she meant her grandmother’s death, her aunt’s attempted suicide, or the fact that everyone thought one of her relatives was a killer.
The group chatted politely for a few minutes before drifting back into their previous conversations. Skye lowered her voice and directed her question to Hilda. “Did you know my aunts very well when you were at school?”
“Yes, Minnie and I were pretty close until . . .” Hilda’s voice trailed off.
It took a moment, but Skye remembered what her father had said on the drive to her grandmother’s funeral. Of course, that must be what the nurse in the picture was about. Minnie’s breakdown. “Until she left school?”
“Why yes. When she came back she wasn’t the same.”
“How long was she gone?” Skye studied the other woman intently.
“About a month or so. I remember she left right around Easter and was back before Mother’s Day.” Hilda took a sip of her coffee.
“But she didn’t go back to school, did she?” Skye tried to keep things straight in her head.
“No, Mona did, but not Minnie. It was a real shame too. Not to graduate when you’re so close.”
“Do you know why they went away?” Skye couldn’t think of a way to ask delicately.
“We were told it was for Minnie’s health. She had been having spells since she was little. I remember the day she went away, we were walking out of school together after the last bell and your grandfather pulled up in the family car.” Hilda’s eyes took on a faraway look, as if she was thinking of something she hadn’t contemplated in
