“Don’t eat the merchandise,” Will told Gretchen as she popped a blackberry into her mouth. Will shoved his finger into a pod and let the heavy beans fall into the aluminum bowl with a gentle
“I’m buying this,” Gretchen insisted as she took another blackberry from the stained paper crate. She grinned impishly. The dark juice had stained the edges of her teeth purple. A breeze ruffled her wild dandelion hair, and for a moment Will could see the six-year-old Gretchen again.
“When was the last time you bought anything from this stand?” Will demanded.
“It’s not my fault that your father never lets us pay.” She picked up a large box of golden cherry tomatoes and placed it in a shallow cardboard tray next to the blackberries. “These are like candy,” she said as she popped one into her mouth.
“They’re my favorites.” The golden tomatoes grew fat and sweet, as if they’d soaked up the flavor of the sun. The heavy rain had caused a few to split, their sweetness calling the fruit flies to come feast. Will knew that they would have to sell them fast.
Gretchen leaned down and patted Guernsey, Will’s old black Lab, who was curled up in her usual spot beneath the wood table that held the cash register, fresh honey supplied by a local apiary, and stick candy. Guernsey lifted her dark eyes and sniffed Gretchen’s hand, then tucked her head back onto her foreleg and went back to drowsing.
“Sweet old thing,” Gretchen said.
Guernsey didn’t deny it.
Gravel crunched as a beat-up Ford rolled into the lot. It was late afternoon, and folks had been trickling in all day. Usually the farm stand was busy early-the caffeinated type A personalities liked to shop for freshly baked scones and fruit at seven in the morning. It would stay quiet until four-thirty, when the cocktail crowd started to appear, looking for something to serve alongside their artisanal cheeses and imported crackers, and gourmet cooks would frown over arugula and thump cantaloupes.
But this was no epicure coming to inspect peaches. “Great,” Will said as long legs unfolded from the tiny silver car. “Another freeloader.”
“Hey!” Angus called as he loped over toward them. When he saw Gretchen, he ran a hand through his bushy brown hair. “Where have you people been hiding?”
“Angus!” Gretchen waved, and Angus’s face lit up like something that had just been plugged in. “You have to try one of these.”
Angus was about to protest, but she popped a cherry tomato into his mouth. “You’re doing tastings now?” Angus teased.
“Will never gives anything away for free, but these are mine,” Gretchen told him. “Have a blackberry.”
Angus opened his mouth and let her feed him again. He smiled at her as he chewed.
“We rinse off all the manure before we put the stuff out,” Will told him.
Gretchen rolled her eyes, but Angus looked a little unsure.
“Kidding,” Will told him. “We don’t rinse anything.”
“Um, no thanks,” Angus told her. He hopped onto the wide wooden table and sat down. “Listen, I actually came over to invite you guys to a party.”
“Your mom is unbarring the gates?” Will asked.
“No way, dude. Not after what happened last year-my place is in lockdown until graduation. But Ansell’s having a thing. Next Friday.”
“On his beach?” Gretchen asked, and Angus nodded. “Sweet.”
Harry Ansell was rich. Seriously rich. But his parents did a lot for the town, so the regular Walfangers didn’t completely despise them. Will knew Harry and didn’t think he was a bad guy. Not the brightest, but not horrible.
“I’ll drive,” Gretchen volunteered, looking at Will.
“I’m not coming.”
“Yes, you are.”
Will shook his head and glanced over at Angus, who was watching the argument with amusement. Gretchen didn’t seem to understand that Will wasn’t like her. He couldn’t just go to parties and act happy all the time. Sometimes, being near people made him feel like he was going to break apart. Okay, sure, he had to work at the stand. His family needed him. But he didn’t have to go to a party and pretend to drink vile beer and endure everyone’s sympathetic looks and sad murmurs.
“You’re coming.”
“No.”
“Okay, I’m glad we’ve discussed this. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“Forget it, Gretchen.”
Gretchen just smiled and took her tray of half-eaten blackberries, tomatoes, and lettuce. “Thanks for the invite, Angus. See you! And remember, Will-nine on Friday.”
“Gretchen, I’m not-”
But she was sashaying away, singing at the top of her lungs. Her long Indian skirt swayed as she walked. Her hair hung halfway down her tan back, barely skimming the top of her lavender halter.
“She’s so freakin’ hot,” Angus said, half to himself. Then he sighed and turned back to Will. “Hey, dude, so I checked with my uncle.”
“Which uncle?”
“Barry.”
“Right.”
“The police chief. About the…” He dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Dead body.” He stared at Will with wide brown eyes.
“And?”
“He wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Will snorted and went back to shelling beans.
“But don’t you think that’s weird?”
“That the police chief wouldn’t tell the biggest gossip in town details of a murder case? Um, not really.”
“Dude, he’s my
“Is it mechanical and made of rubber?”
“Dude.” Angus shook his head. “I’m telling you. Something’s up. This town has secrets.” He hopped off the table. “And I’m going to find them out.”
“Maybe your uncle is trying to protect you.”
“Whose side are you on? I don’t need protection. I need answers.” He waved over his shoulder as he walked back to his car. The salt had gotten to it near the bottom, and orange rust was making its way up the car in a pattern that looked like a gentle wave. “I’ll see you at Ansell’s party, if not before!” he called as he folded himself up into his little clown car.
Will didn’t even bother shouting that he wasn’t going to Ansell’s.
“So then I was like, ‘Nice wedding ring,’ and I thought he was going to
