“Yes,” she said, rubbing the sore skin on the back of her hand. “We’ll take it.”
After piling all of Una’s books on top of his, Kristofer walked Una to the checkout desk.
Mrs. Stapleton chatted as she stamped Kristofer’s two biographies and Una’s novels. When it came time to stamp the slim history book, she beamed with delight. “My father wrote this. He knew more about this town than anyone I’ve ever met. He always said no one would care about its history until it was too late.”
The phrase echoed in Una’s head.
Too late, too late, too late.
“What did he mean?” she asked.
“I have no idea. Maybe he just didn’t know many people who collected bits of local history the way he did. Before he got sick, he was working on his second book. I have all of his research at home. Boxes of letters and postcards and photos. Newspapers, too. I keep meaning to sort everything, but whenever I have free time, I end up in a chair, reading. I can’t resist the lure of a good novel. Hazard of the profession.”
Una waited for Mrs. Stapleton to finish stamping the card before turning to the photo of Mrs. Smith’s house. “Do you think there’s more information about this house in your father’s boxes?”
A shadow crossed Mrs. Stapleton’s face. “Not that house, no.”
She wasn’t a very good liar, but before Una could question her further, Kristofer loaded the last book into their tote bag and wished Mrs. Stapleton a good day. The librarian smiled weakly at him before glancing away.
She’s afraid, Una thought as she followed Kristofer to the exit.
As they approached the double doors, she heard laughter from the children’s area and the whir of the Xerox machine. There was another noise, too. A faint, persistent sound coming from the stacks.
Una shouldn’t have been able to hear it because she was too far away. But she knew what it was and where it was coming from.
It was the thump of the horsefly, beating its body against the window, again and again and again.
9
Natalie
Natalie took the tray of homemade desserts from Beth’s hands. The pastries were beautiful. They looked like they belonged on the cover ofGood Housekeeping.
“I made extra for the kids,” Beth said. “I know how much they love chocolate.”
“Jill needs to learn to love it a little less,” Natalie murmured. She put the tray down on the coffee table and handed Beth a Tom Collins.
Elaine was perched on the sofa, her legs crossed at the ankles, a martini glass in her right hand. She used her free hand to pat the sofa cushion next to her. “Saved you a seat.”
Beth sat down and took a sip of her drink. Smiling at Natalie, she said, “Oh, my God! Is this straight gin?”
“Lemme fix it for you.” Natalie leaned over the coffee table and dropped a lemon wheel into Beth’s glass.
Beth laughed. “All better.” She sank into the sofa cushions with a sigh and turned to Elaine. “Where are your men tonight?”
Elaine pointed at the spiral staircase leading to the Scotts’ basement. “Charles is downstairs, and Benjamin’s having dinnerwith friends from the temple.” She looked at Natalie. “What’s Jimmy up to?”
Natalie tried to give a breezy reply, but a sour note snuck into her voice “He’s still in the city. He’s taking clients to dinner and a play. They’re going toMedea, which burns me up because I’ve been dying to see that one.”
“He’s so lucky. What did he take his clients to last time?” asked Beth.
“Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat,” Natalie said.
“Starring Bill Hutton.” Beth wriggled her brows. “He can invade my dreams anytime.”
Natalie returned to the bar cart and filled a shot glass with vodka. “The man of my dreams would be wearing coveralls and painting every inch of the McCreedy place before the open house. Last night, I dreamed I made the kids paint. Even Justin. It was your run-of-the-mill child labor dream.”
The women laughed.
