“They found a broken bottle with a rag in it.”
“A torch?”
“Yes. Well, two, actually.”
Evvie threw down the hose with more force than was necessary, muttering something that might have been Creole as she dried her hands on her apron. “You’ll be calling the police now, I hope?” she said finally. “To tell them what’s going on?”
“I suspect the investigators will be doing that shortly, which means it’ll be all over town by tomorrow. There is one silver lining, though. If someone really is trying to scare me, it means I’m not the only one who’s scared.”
“Humph.” Evvie cocked an eye at her. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“Scared people make mistakes, Evvie.”
“They’re also dangerous.”
“They can be. But why set the orchard on fire when he could burn us all in our beds? Whoever is doing this is just looking to terrorize me, and sooner or later he’s going to slip up. When he does, we’ll finally get to the truth. Isn’t that what we want? The truth?”
Evvie poked out her lower lip, clearly unconvinced. “Truth won’t do you any good if you’re dead. I just lost your gran. I don’t want to be scattering your ashes next.”
Lizzy managed a smile she didn’t quite feel. If Evvie’s intention had been to send a chill down her spine, she’d been successful. “Well, the police and the fire department are both on it now, so it’s unlikely that you’ll have to worry about my ashes anytime soon. And at this point, I’m not even sure what my next move is. Right now, I’m going upstairs and filling the tub, where I plan to soak until I no longer smell like a chimney sweep. And then I’ll be heading to the kitchen to pour myself a hefty glass of wine and start the ratatouille. I’m in desperate need of some culinary therapy, and a night free of surprises.”
TWENTY-ONE
An hour and a half later, Lizzy was waterlogged but soot-free, and the investigators’ SUV was gone. In the kitchen, she opened a bottle of chardonnay and poured herself a glass, then pulled an eggplant, a green pepper, and several zucchini from the fridge. Cooking had always been a refuge for her, a calming, almost meditative act, and if there was anything she could do with just now, it was a little calm.
From the window over the sink, she could see the sun beginning to slide behind the treetops. The days were already growing shorter, the afternoon light taking on that soft, buttery hue that meant autumn wasn’t far off. Soon the trees would turn, and the hills would go gold. Pumpkins would appear on doorsteps, along with cornstalks and bright yellow mums. She’d be back in New York by then.
A knock on the front door cut the thought short. She waited, expecting to hear the scuff of Evvie’s UGGs. When she didn’t, she wiped her hands, grabbed a sip of wine, and headed for the foyer.
She was surprised to find Andrew on the front steps. “You’re back.”
“Yes.”
“How was Boston?”
“Good. It was . . . good.”
“Does that mean you got the job?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”
Lizzy cocked her head to one side, studying him. He was acting strange—distracted and anxious. “Do you want to come in?”
“I’m uh . . .” He paused, shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m not alone.”
“Sorry?”
“I picked up a hitchhiker,” he said quietly. “Someone you know.” He turned to glance at his truck, parked halfway up the drive. “It’s your mother, Lizzy. She’s in the truck.”
A pall of white noise settled over Lizzy, like the thick, cottony quiet that surrounded you when you first took off in a plane, when the earth fell away and you seemed disconnected from the world, suspended between reality and whatever came next.
Her mother. In the truck.
It wasn’t possible.
But a glance over Andrew’s shoulder confirmed that there was, in fact, someone sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. Lizzy froze when the door opened and Rhanna climbed out. She was wearing a crocheted halter top and jeans worn to strings at the hem. A beaded purse slapped rhythmically against her hip as she advanced up the drive.
Lizzy remained rooted to the spot, breath held as confusion and disbelief spun into a wave of white-hot fury. She waited until Rhanna reached the walkway, then stepped around Andrew, effectively blocking her path.
“What do you want?”
Rhanna met her gaze without flinching. “I want to come home.”
Lizzy stiffened. “Suddenly this is your home?”
Andrew cleared his throat, his discomfort plain. “Lizzy, she hitchhiked all the way from California. It’s taken her six weeks to get here.”
“I don’t care how long it took her to get here. I care why she’s here. Now. After eight years.”
“I came for Althea,” Rhanna said softly. “And for you.”
Lizzy folded her arms over her chest, eyeing Rhanna coolly. Her skin, once pale as milk, was nut-brown now, and leathery from too much sun, and there were threads of silver running through her dark hair. She’d also lost weight, enough to cause her clothes to hang limply on her slight frame. Was she sick? Was that what this was about?
“It’s a little late to start thinking of me, Rhanna. And as for Althea, she’s—”
“Dead,” Rhanna supplied quietly. “Yes, I know.”
Lizzy narrowed her gaze. She did know. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was how she knew. “How could you know about Althea? No one’s heard from you in years.”
“I had a dream,” Rhanna said softly. “At least I think it was a dream. I woke up, and I could smell her perfume—the one you used to make for her. It was like she was in the room with me. And I just . . . knew.”
Lizzy felt the ground shift. Althea’s perfume. The same lavender and bergamot she’d been smelling since she returned to the
