The Last of the Moon Girls(48)

But what of the others? Those who had spurned the rumors but kept a careful distance? Who’d never quite found the courage to speak out? Who had simply remained invisible? Where did they fall on the scale of betrayal? Where did she fall?

The question continued to gnaw as she closed the book and went downstairs to make coffee. Evvie glanced up from her seat at the kitchen table, where she was painstakingly applying labels to about two dozen small jars of honey.

“Breakfast?”

“No thanks. Coffee’s all I need.” Lizzy filled the basket and pushed the brew button, then propped a hip against the counter to wait. “What’s with all the jars?”

“Getting another batch of honey ready to take to Ben at the hardware store.”

“Didn’t you just do that a few days ago?”

Evvie dropped her gaze. “And what if I did?”

Lizzy cocked her head, studying Evvie through narrowed eyes. She was wearing lipstick, a shimmery shade of coral that set off her eyes. And dangly jade earrings. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Such as?”

“Such as why you won’t look at me all of a sudden. Or why you went all moony just now when you said Ben’s name.”

Evvie glanced up, chin jutting. “I did no such thing!”

Lizzy propped her hands on her hips, grinning slyly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sweet on old Ben. Why else would you be making another trip so soon?”

“It’s got nothing to do with being sweet on anybody,” Evvie grumbled petulantly. “He puts the jars out on the counter and his customers snatch them up. Can I help it if folks know a good thing when they taste it?”

“So the lipstick’s just a coincidence?”

“Oh, hush up and drink your coffee!”

Lizzy swallowed a grin as she pulled a mug from the cupboard, then waited for the final drops to splutter into the pot. “Have you been out to the shop recently?”

Evvie seemed surprised by the question. “To the shop? Not recently. Why?”

“I was just wondering what was still out there.”

“You’re thinking about Penny Castle’s headache tea,” Evvie said knowingly. “Might be some left. Far as I know, it’s just like your gran left it. She used to go out every day and putter around, not that many ever came to buy. But she went out every morning. Even after she got sick. After a while, it got to be too much. One day she locked the door, hung up the key, and that was that. We never spoke about it, but I know it broke her heart. This place, that shop and her herbs, were her life. And you, of course. But you were gone by then. The shop was the last of it.”

Lizzy spooned a bit of sugar into her mug, stirring as she moved to the table. “Can I give you a hand?”

“I’ve about got it finished. But you can grab me that box off the floor, so I can pack it up and get it out to the car.”

Lizzy fetched the box and began filling it. “Ben will really sell all this at the hardware store?”

“Every lick. Folks around here believe in buying local, even if it is from a woman with a funny accent and skin the color of old wood.” She shot Lizzy a wink as she hefted the box up into her arms. “You could come.”

“To the hardware store?”

“Might not be a bad thing to show yourself around. Let folks know you’re interested in something other than Fred Gilman.”

“Actually, I have something I need to do. Or at least try to do.”

Evvie removed her glasses, giving them a wipe with her apron. “Another meeting with your real estate man?”

“That’s next week—I hope. No, this is something else. A favor I owe.”

She waited until Evvie’s station wagon rattled down the drive, grabbed the key from the hook beside the mudroom door, and headed for the one place she still hadn’t been able to make herself go—Althea’s apothecary.

The squat stone cottage had been built as a cider house in the 1820s, fashioned of rough-faced granite fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. Over the years it had served as many things: a dry cellar, a pottery shed, even a quilting room, but it had been relegated to storage when Althea decided to clear it out and set it up as a shop. She’d done a job of it too, creating something straight out of a fairy tale, complete with a curved stone path, ivied trellis, and flower boxes for the windows. In its heyday, it had drawn customers from all over New England. Now, the window boxes sat empty, the path grown over with weeds.

So many memories shut up in one place.

The key turned easily, but the door was swollen and required a series of lunges before finally yielding. Lizzy cringed as she stepped inside. The windows were rimed with grit, allowing only a murky wash of light to filter in, but it was enough to see that everything was coated in a fine layer of dust, the corners crisscrossed with cobwebs. She cringed as she crossed to the light switch, registering the queasy crunch of mouse droppings underfoot. She flipped the switch, and the overheads blinked on. A third of the bulbs were out.

Not much had changed in the years she’d been gone. She scanned the shop: the back wall lined with shelves, the glass-front cabinets flanking the front windows, the butcher-block worktable running down the center. And Althea’s remedy book—a kind of cookbook filled with recipes for treating all manner of ailments.