The spat forgotten, Peggy climbed onto the rack that was mounted over the back fender of the bike, and wobbling dangerously, Beth pedaled them away. Ten minutes later they were in their favorite booth in the rear corner of the drugstore, sipping on cherry Cokes.
“What’s it really like up there?” Peggy asked. “I mean, what’s it like living in that house? Isn’t it scary?”
Beth hesitated, then shook her head. “It’s not really scary. But you have to get used to it. The worst part is Tracy Sturgess.”
Peggy nodded wisely. “I know. Peter says she’s the meanest person he ever met.”
“She is,” Beth agreed. “And she really hates me.”
“How come?”
Beth shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess she thinks Mom and I are just hicks. She’s always acting like she’s better than everybody.” Then she grinned. “But wait till next year — she’s going to be going to school right here!”
Peggy’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You mean she isn’t going back to private school?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Wow,” Peggy breathed. “Wait’ll the other kids hear about that!” Then she snickered maliciously. “And wait till the first day of school. I bet everybody cuts her dead.”
“I hope they do,” Beth said, her voice edged with bitterness. “I hope they’re all just as mean to her as she is to me.”
Peggy nodded, then sighed despondently. “But they prob’ly won’t be. They’ll prob’ly start kissing up to her just because she’s a Sturgess.” She sucked the last of the Coke through the straw, then tipped the glass up so that the crushed ice slid into her mouth. She munched on it for a minute, then looked across the table at Beth again. “Do you know what really happened to Jeff Bailey?”
Beth felt a slight chill go through her. “I — he just tripped and fell, didn’t he?”
“Search me,” Peggy replied. “But I heard my parents talking about it last night, and they kept talking about the other boy that got killed in the mill—”
“Uncle Phillip’s brother,” Beth put in.
Peggy nodded. “Anyway, my mom said that she didn’t think it was a coincidence at all. She said there’s always been stories about the mill, and she thinks maybe there’s something in there.”
Beth hesitated, then nodded. “There is,” she said.
Peggy stared at her. “How do you know?” she asked.
Beth hesitated, then made up her mind. “Come up to Hilltop tomorrow, and I’ll show you something. And I’ll tell you what’s in the mill. But you have to promise not to tell anyone else, all right? It’s a secret.”
Peggy nodded eagerly. “I promise.”
“Cross your heart?”
“Cross my heart,” Peggy repeated. “Cross my heart, and hope to die.”
13
Eileen Russell looked at her daughter doubtfully, then shook her head as she slid two perfectly fried eggs out of the skillet onto the child’s plate. “I don’t know. I just don’t like the idea of Peter getting into trouble over it.”
“But Peter
Eileen’s gaze shifted to her son. “Well?” she asked. “Does that sound like Mr. Sturgess to you?”
Peter shrugged noncommittally, but at the pleading look in his sister’s eyes, he nodded his head. “He’s pretty nice, and he takes Beth riding sometimes. I don’t think he’d care if Peg went along.” Then he grinned. “But Tracy’d piss her pants. She hates it bad enough when her dad goes riding with Beth. If Peg was along, she’d shit.”
“Watch your language, young man,” Eileen said, more out of habit than any particular prudery. She turned the matter over in her mind once more. She knew how much Peggy had missed Beth over the last few months, but her main concern was still that nothing threaten Peter’s job. Jobs, particularly in the summer, were scarce, and they needed the money. Her job hostessing at the Red Hen barely covered the bills, and if something should happen to Peter’s job—
Finally she decided to compromise, and call Carolyn Sturgess. Except that even something as simple as that suddenly presented a problem. It was stupid, and Eileen knew it. After all, when they’d been growing up together, Carolyn Deaver had been one of her best friends, and after Dan Russell walked out on her about the same time Carolyn had divorced Alan Rogers, they’d become even closer.
But then Carolyn had married Phillip Sturgess, and moved up to the mansion on top of the hill, and everything had changed.
Still, Eileen had to admit that part of the problem was her own fault. She’d gone up to Hilltop a couple of times, but the very size of the house had made her uncomfortable, and old Mrs. Sturgess had been blatantly rude to her. Finally she’d stopped going, telling herself that from now on, she’d invite Carolyn to her own house.
Except she’d never really done it. She’d tried to tell herself that she just kept putting it off because she was busy, but she knew that the real reason was that in comparison to Hilltop, her house was little more than a slum. And after getting used to the splendor of the mansion, Carolyn would be sure to notice the shortcomings of Eileen’s place. So the invitation had never been issued, and as the months went by, Eileen thought about it less and less.
Still, there was no reason why Peggy and Beth’s friendship should end simply because their mothers’ had withered. She picked up the receiver and dialed the number that was still written in pencil on the wall next to the phone. To her relief, Carolyn herself answered the phone on the second ring, sounding sleepy. With a sinking heart, Eileen realized that there was no longer any reason for Carolyn to be up by seven A.M.
“It’s Eileen,” she said. “Eileen Russell. Did I wake you?”
Instantly, the sleepiness was gone from Carolyn’s voice. “Eileen! It’s been months!”
“I know,” Eileen replied. “And I’m sorry. But — well, you know how it goes.”
There was an instant’s hesitation before she heard Carolyn’s reply, and some of the enthusiasm seemed to have gone out of her voice. “Yes,” she said. “Of course. I … I understand, Eileen.”
“The reason I’m calling,” Eileen plunged on, “is that Beth ran into Peggy yesterday, and invited her to come up to Hilltop this morning. I just wanted to be sure it wouldn’t be any problem.”
“Problem?” Carolyn echoed. “Eileen, it would be wonderful. Beth’s missed Peggy so much, and so have I. You know she’s welcome here anytime.”
Suddenly Eileen felt ashamed of herself. Carolyn hadn’t changed — hadn’t changed at all. Why had she been so sure she had? Or was she herself busy being a snob, attributing to Carolyn airs that she herself would have taken on in the same situation? She had to admit that the possibility existed.
“Okay,” she said. “She’ll be up sometime in the middle of the morning.” She hesitated, then went on. “And maybe this afternoon I could come up myself. We haven’t had a talk for a long time.”
“Could you?” Carolyn asked. “Oh, Eileen, that would be wonderful. What time?”
Eileen thought quickly. “How about three-ish? I have to do lunch at the Hen, but it’s a split shift. I don’t have to be back until seven.”
“Great!” Carolyn agreed.
When she hung up a moment later, Eileen grinned happily at Peggy. “Looks like the drought’s over,” she said. “You can go up anytime you want.”
Peggy, winded from the hike up the hill, paused when she came through the gates of Hilltop, and stared at the mansion while she caught her breath. It still seemed to her impossible that anybody could really live in it. But Beth? That was really weird. Beth should still be living on Cherry Street, where they could run back and forth between each other’s houses four or five times a day. Up here, just the driveway was longer than the whole
