Rhanna started, clearly surprised to find she had company. She reached for a towel to wipe her hands, then turned down the radio. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. I’m playing with a new oatmeal soak. It’s a tweaked version of one I found in Althea’s book. I’m going for something warm and spicy for fall—or maybe Halloween. We could call it A Wicked Good Soak. What do you think?”
Lizzy mustered a smile. She’d never seen Rhanna this enthused about anything. But she was forgetting that by Halloween none of them would be here.
Rhanna pointed to the wire racks where Louise Ryerson’s soap sat curing. “The bars came out perfectly. Maybe we should make another batch. Apparently, the word is out.”
“The word?”
“That the Moons are back in business. Evvie’s been fending off customers left and right.”
“We’re not, though. You understand that, right? That this is just temporary?”
Rhanna wilted a little, then narrowed her eyes on Lizzy. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“I had a call from my Realtor.”
“And?”
“He’s not my Realtor anymore.”
“Why?”
“There was another article about the fire in this morning’s paper and it’s apparently left Mr. Bundy squeamish. Radioactive was the term he used. He says if I list now, it’ll just sit and lose value. He says I should wait.”
“How long?”
“Six months to a year is what he said.”
“A year?” Hope flickered in Rhanna’s eyes. “What are you going to do?”
Lizzy lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Get a second opinion, I guess. And hope the bank will give me enough money to tide me over.”
Rhanna startled Lizzy by briefly laying a hand on her shoulder, the first time she’d initiated any kind of contact in years. “I’m sorry you’ve had to carry the whole load around here, but I want to start helping. There’s a guy I used to see back in the day—Billy Church. His family has this big real estate office in Somersworth, and he owes me a favor. Or maybe I owe him. I’m kind of fuzzy on the details. But I bet I can track him down. As for money, Evvie and I have been talking, and I think we’ve found a way to help out.”
Lizzy eyed her warily. “Should I be worried?”
Rhanna feigned a pout. “I’m going to ignore that. There’s a New Age festival coming up in New Bay, Connecticut. I called last week, and they had a few tables left. We thought we’d take some of Evvie’s honey and some of this stuff, and make some quick cash.”
Lizzy peered over Rhanna’s shoulder, scanning the neatly labeled containers on the shelf. Gardener’s salve made with dandelion flowers, lemon-mint salt scrub, almond-coconut body butter. There were even tiny pots of honey-vanilla lip balm. Not bad, considering the limited materials she’d had to work with.
“That’s what you’ve been doing out here? Making stuff for a festival?”
Rhanna beamed. “We didn’t want to say anything until we knew we’d have enough inventory, and we will by the time the festival rolls around. Evvie has her bracelets and her honey. I’ll be doing readings too. It won’t pay the property taxes, but it’ll keep the lights on, and I did promise I’d earn my keep. I know it’s not really your thing, but you don’t need to go. Evvie and I can handle it while you do what you need to do here.”
Lizzy shook her head, smiling. “Althea always said you had Roma blood in your veins. When is this festival?”
“This weekend. Ben from the hardware store is lending us a big umbrella and some stuff to hang up signs.”
Lizzy’s brows lifted at the mention of Ben’s name. “How did he get involved?”
“I’m not sure. Apparently, Evvie mentioned the fair and he jumped at the chance to help. Sounds like maybe he’s crushing on our Evvie.”
“I think that street runs both ways,” Lizzy said, grinning. “A couple weeks back, she was loading a box of honey to take to the hardware store, and she was wearing lipstick.”
“Lipstick? Evvie?”
“Earrings too.”
“Peter, Paul, and Mary,” Rhanna breathed, a slow grin lifting the corners of her mouth. “A romance right here on Moon Girl Farm. I’m definitely going to have fun with this.”
“Yeah, well, she buttoned up tighter than a deacon’s wife when I brought it up, so don’t expect her to admit it.”
Rhanna tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. “On second thought, maybe I should leave it alone. I’ve just gotten in her good graces, and I’d like to stay there.” A bead of perspiration trickled from her temple. She blotted it on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Good grief, it’s hot. Want to break for some ice cream?”
“Can’t. I’m headed to the bank to pick up some paperwork and make an appointment with a loan officer.”
Rhanna nodded grimly. “Right. Maybe later. We could go to the Dairy Bar and share a banana split. It’s still there, right?”
“Yup. Still there. I was surprised how little downtown had changed, though we actually have a vape shop now, and a tattoo parlor.”
“Wow. In a town like Salem Creek, that’s progress. As I recall, there was never much of anything to do in this town. Unless you knew the right people.”
“The right people?”
“Ahem . . .” Rhanna cocked a brow. “The Hanley boys?”
Lizzy frowned, bewildered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the Hanley farm—the one right behind ours, with all the bright yellow NO TRESPASSING signs posted all over the place. The old man liked to pretend no one knew what he was growing back there, but we all did. It was the worst kept secret in Salem Creek.”
“What he was . . .” Lizzy’s mouth dropped open. “You mean pot?”
Rhanna rolled her eyes. “Yes, honey. I mean pot.”
“I thought they grew corn.”
“Oh, they did. It’s just not all they grew. Good thing too, or those boys wouldn’t have had any friends. They were such an odd pair. Whatever happened to them anyway?”
“Hollis died in a car crash not long after he got back from Afghanistan. Dennis
