“And Mr. Gilman? How did she get along with him?”
“Okay, I guess. He was usually at work when we were there. I know he gave her things. One time she wanted this cute little skirt from Forever 21, but her mom said it was too short. Next thing I know, she’s wearing it. When I asked how she changed her mother’s mind, she said she didn’t. She got her father to buy it instead. She said she had him wrapped.”
“Wrapped?”
“You know—around her finger. She bragged that she could make him do whatever she wanted.”
Like buy her condoms.
Lizzy felt a wave of disgust. Susan had said the same thing. “Did she say why?”
“No. I asked, but she just clammed up. Like I said, she got really weird.”
“Did you ever see her with any cuts or bruises?”
“You mean did her parents beat her?”
“It happens.”
“No. I never saw her with anything like that.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
“No. Not for a while. She and Brian Smith used to be a thing, started when they were in middle school, but that stopped around the time she ditched us. There was no one after that as far as I know, and then . . .”
Yes. And then.
“Did the police ever talk to you? Afterward, I mean.”
“Yeah. Two guys came to the house and asked me some questions.”
“Did you tell them what you told me? About Heather not wanting to go home?”
“No. I should have, I guess, but it didn’t seem like anything back then. And I think I was still a little mad at her. But you think about things when you get older—when you have kids of your own—and you wonder if there was something you should have known, something you could have stopped. I don’t know what happened to Heather, or Darcy, but it’s hard not to think that the way she changed was a part of it somehow.” She sounded tired suddenly, and sad. “I have to go now. I’m on tonight. I should be asleep.”
“Yes, of course. And thank you. You’ve been a big help. I was hoping to speak with Cynthia Draper too. Would you happen to know how I might get in touch with her?”
“Cynthia died two years ago. Leukemia.”
Lizzy’s stomach sank. “I’m so sorry.”
There was a beat of quiet before Jenny answered, “I should have said something back then, but I was pretty freaked out. Still am, I guess. My dad’s in the Elks with Fred Gilman. He’d be wicked pissed if he knew I was talking to you. Anyway, I’m sorry about your grandmother. I remember her being nice.”
Lizzy wasn’t sure what she felt as she ended the call. Sadness, revulsion, and anger all seemed to be warring for a place in her gut. Jenny had confirmed Susan’s version of things with startling clarity, painting a picture of Heather Gilman that asked more questions than it answered. Why had she cut her friends dead, and broken up with her longtime crush? And why had she suddenly stopped wanting to go home? Was it mere teenage angst, or something darker?
She pulled up Roger’s number and hit “Dial.” It rang four times before kicking over to voice mail. For a retired guy, he certainly kept busy. She left a message, saying she’d spoken to Susan Gilman, and wanted to run some things by him.
A knock at the door sounded as she hung up. She expected to find Evvie, her arms filled with the packages she’d gone to pick up from the post office. Instead, she pulled back the door to find a plumpish woman in sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat.
The woman smiled nervously. She smelled of bread dough, warm and yeasty. A good smell. A safe smell. “I doubt you remember me. My name is Penny Castle. I work at Wilson’s Drugstore, at the lunch counter.”
Lizzy didn’t remember her, but she smiled back. “What can I do for you, Ms. Castle?”
“Nothing, probably. But I thought I’d try. Your grandmother used to make me a tea for my migraines. It was the only thing that ever gave me any relief. When I heard you were back, I couldn’t help hoping—well, praying, actually—that you’d come back to reopen the shop.”
“I’m sorry, no. I only came back to put the farm up for sale.”
Ms. Castle’s face fell, but she nodded. “I can’t say I blame you. Still, it’s a shame. The end of an era, some might say. She had such a big heart, your grandmother. Never turned a soul away. Even the ones who couldn’t pay. It wasn’t fair, the way people . . .” She trailed off, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “I’m sorry to go on. It’s just that she was such a good woman. You’re like her, you know? Not just your looks, but the light in you. Althea had that. Anyway, thank you for your time, and I’m sorry to bother you.”
Lizzy felt a pang of sympathy as she watched Penny Castle walk away. How many others were suffering for want of Althea’s remedies? And where would they turn?
She was about to close the door when she saw Evvie’s battered station wagon lumbering up the drive. Evvie climbed out, arms laden with packages, and a bag brimming with several loaves of fresh bread. A canvas tote dangled from her wrist.
“I stopped off at the farmers’ market on the way back. How does spinach salad with fresh strawberries sound for supper tonight?”
Lizzy relieved Evvie of her packages and turned back toward the house. “It sounds good. It’s already way too hot to cook.”
In the kitchen, Evvie set about opening her parcels—beads she’d ordered from a supplier in Vermont—while Lizzy pulled out a colander and began rinsing the strawberries. They worked in silence for a time, but Lizzy couldn’t get Penny Castle’s face out of her head.
“We had a visitor while you were gone,” she said at last. “A woman looking for some headache tea.”
Evvie looked up, clutching
