“Yes. Sorry,” he said. “Habit. Happy wife, happy life.” He turned and leaned against the counter. “I want to remind you of the confidentiality agreement you signed with Earthshine. It was part of your severance contract, I’m sure you remember. Confidentiality, in perpetuity.” In perpetuity. Such a lawyerly phrase. So eternal. So vaguely threatening. “I know you’ve been summoned as a witness,” he said.
“I was going to tell you.”
“I already know.” He held up his hands. It was a deposition, not a trial, he explained. Information gathering. Fishing. “Their case must be really weak if they’re callingyou.”
“Thanks?”
“You know what I mean. Not even sworn testimony. No courtroom. No judge. But…” he said, “you can’t talk about Earthshine Soap. At all. Not there. Not anywhere. Not to anyone. Look,” he continued. “It’s especially important now, with all those women coming forward. Everyone wants in on it, you know? That’s how these things go. Social contagion. Like the Salem witch trials. The consequences would be dire.”
“They hung the witches,” I said. I picked up my stack of mail and nervously sorted through it. There, in a large, heavy envelope decorated with stars, was the invitation to Bertie’s event at the observatory, just like Charlie had told me. I held it up. “Going?”
“Are you listening to me?” Mr. Longworth said. “We can’t have anything getting out. Not a word. I’m serious now. We’ll rehearse what you’ll say, you and me. I’ll have my secretary make an appointment for next week. The Tuttles are counting on you, Nona, to be on our side.”
That night at the country club, Halley had said something similar to Charlie:I thought you’d be on my side. I only now remembered it.
“The shareholders are counting on you, too, of course,” he said.
“I don’t even know anything,” I said, and that was true. I didn’t know anything specific, not really. Not yet. I only had what you’d call a gut feeling, and I didn’t trust my gut or my feelings. I spottedHalley’s envelope on the kitchen table, and I felt protective of it. Of her. I was on Halley’s side, I wanted to say to Gene Longworth, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned my attention to the invitation in my hands: gold embossed lettering on cream card stock thick enough to cut a stick of butter. Her intertwined initials at the top of the page.BBT. Bertie Bremen Tuttle.The Tale of the Comet with Bertie Tuttle. January 28. The Cincinnati Observatory.
“Her last public event, they say,” he said.
Bertie planned to share her own memories of the 1910 comet: How they said the world would end. How the media drummed up fear to sell papers. How the Earthshine fire was set the night the Earth passed through the tail of the comet, a pivotal moment that altered the course of both her family and her business.
“You’d think the comet was coming just for her bon voyage. You won’t need a designated driver, at least.” He pointed out the window to the Boobatory rising above the tree line. “Let me ask you something. Halley—what was in her safe-deposit box?”
Truth is a natural state. It’s our bodies, in moments of discomfort, that condition us to lie. My own body was reacting to Gene Longworth standing so close in a confined space. My stomach tightened. “Nothing,” I said. “Why?” I could hear the way my words came out, sharp edged, the way I sounded when Wyatt accused me of nagging.
“Nona, you surprise me. The Tuttles are your friends. Think of all they’ve done for you. You should be grateful.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m no good with grief. It was personal. A photo. Sentimental stuff. We were close.”
“I know. It must be hard,” he said. He hung his head for a moment, then popped up again. “You wouldn’t mind if I took a look then?”
It grew quiet, and I heard the clock ticking on the wall. Had it been a scene in a movie, the director would have focused on the sound, on the way the ticking amplified the tension between us.Tick. Tick. Tick.Abloated pause. I wasn’t sure what to do. On my kitchen table, I could see that old ledger book atop the fruit bowl filled with wooden apples that looked so lifelike that Wyatt once chipped his tooth when he tried to take a bite out of one. I walked over, grabbed the photo from between the pages, and turned, hoping he wouldn’t see from where I’d pulled it.
Halley didn’t trust lawyers either.
“Here,” I said. “This.” I handed over the Halloween photo: me as the aged-out, soon-to-be-wedded Earthshine Girl, Halley as a canister of soap.
“Heh. Technically, this is a violation of contract, the unauthorized representation of the Earthshine Girl’s likeness,” he said.
“Maybe that’s why she locked it up.”
He studied it, then gave me a sideways scowl. My body buzzed, but not in a good way. “I’m joking,” he said. “Sort of. And the other contents, the other sentimental stuff—”
“Look—it’s late,” I said. “I need to find it. And if you want to know the truth…” I leaned in, lowered my voice. “I’m… having some feminine troubles. Aunt Flo. Horrible cramps.” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “I think I need a heating pad and some Pamprin.”
Mr. Longworth straightened. Nothing makes a man more nervous than the kind of blood that comes from between a woman’s legs. Let him have his gangster movies. Let him hunt and sling carcasses atop his car, take them home and butcher them into tenderloins for supper, but even hint at menstrual blood, and he’ll squirm.
“If now’s not a good time,” he said. He dug into his pocket and dangled his car keys from his thumb. “We can talk again soon. My secretary will call you in a few days. Remember what I said, okay? Nobody. It’s tempting to step into the spotlight, but trust me, this is not the kind of fame you want.”
“Of course not.”
“Good girl, Nona.”
Good girl, indeed.
THAT NIGHT THE PHONE RANG,late, and when I answered, the voice on the other end sounded metallic and staticky, like an airline pilot reporting the altitude over the plane’s intercom. “Is this the Earthshine Girl?”
