to Hollow Valley with me to see the house. While I talk to the owner, you can explore the orchard and the meadow.”
Behind thick glasses, her eyes widened. “Are you sure I won’t be in the way, Ms. Malloy? I was reading an article on the Internet about indigenous plants and herbal remedies. St. John’s wort, black cohosh, evening primrose, and ginseng are good for menopausal symptoms.”
“Do you think I’m experiencing menopausal symptoms?”
“Gosh, no, Ms. Malloy,” she said, blinking earnestly. “They’re also good for depression—not that you look depressed—and anxiety and all kinds of things. I never for a minute thought you’re old enough to be going through—”
“Let me finish my coffee, and then we’ll go.”
Inez babbled about each and every Karamazov brother as I drove to Hollow Valley and turned onto the blacktop road. Pandora Butterfly was flitting elsewhere, thank goodness. Explaining her to Inez (or to anybody, for that matter) would be a waste of oxygen. I was annoyed that Terry’s rental car was not parked out front. Inez, in contrast, was thrilled about every detail of the setting.
“Oh wow! It’s fantastic!” she said. “It’s classy and unique, and it somehow fits right into all the grass and trees and everything. The shingles look like scallop shells. My grandmother had a porch like that, with rocking chairs and a swing. I loved sitting out there on summer nights, watching the lightning bugs and listening to the cicadas.” She scrambled out of the car and ran up to the porch. “This is so cool, Ms. Malloy. Way cool.”
If Caron didn’t physically resemble me, I’d have wondered if there might have been a mix-up in the hospital neonatal ward. I was eager to show Inez the interior as soon as the house was mine (and Peter’s and Caron’s, I amended grudgingly). “The owner must have gone to see his attorney, but surely he’ll be back soon,” I said. “Go have a look at the pool while I try to find out if he’s spoken to any of the neighbors.”
Inez zipped around the corner of the house as I got into the car. The only resident who might have information was Nattie, so I continued up the road and parked near the statue. I didn’t notice Jordan until I walked up the path to the Old Tavern. She was hunkered under a shrub by the door, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Hey,” she said.
“Good morning,” I responded with a polite smile. “Is Nattie here?”
“She went into town to buy groceries. I asked her to get me a pack of cigarettes, and she bawled me out for fifteen minutes. You’d think that I’d asked for a stick of dynamite and a box of matches.”
“Do you smoke?”
She disengaged branches and crawled out onto the lawn. “No, but I was really, really bored. It’s impossible to get a reaction from Aunt Margaret Louise. When I told her that back home I made money by stripping in the boys’ locker room, she made this weird gurgly sound and put on the teakettle. I tried it on Aunt Felicia, but she just looked at me. Pandora wants me to go on some vegan cleansing regime and meditate in the moonlight. Like I’m going to subsist on grass and tofu!”
I looked at her for the first time. Under the piercings and Mohawk, I could see a fourteen-year-old girl with a lot of emotional problems. Her body had not yet begun to mature; she could easily pass as a prepubescent boy. I had a feeling that Jordan was not popular with peers of either gender. My pragmatic inclination was to dismiss her, but my maternal side butted in. “My daughter couldn’t come with me today, but one of her friends volunteered. She’s out behind Winston’s house, hunting for herbs. You’re welcome to join her.”
Jordan sneered. “Like I want to hang out with some botany nerd? I can take care of myself.”
“As you wish,” I murmured. I was not surprised when she put her hands in her pockets and ambled ever so casually toward the mill, then faded into the woods in the
Behind thick glasses, her eyes widened. “Are you sure I won’t be in the way, Ms. Malloy? I was reading an article on the Internet about indigenous plants and herbal remedies. St. John’s wort, black cohosh, evening primrose, and ginseng are good for menopausal symptoms.”
“Do you think I’m experiencing menopausal symptoms?”
“Gosh, no, Ms. Malloy,” she said, blinking earnestly. “They’re also good for depression—not that you look depressed—and anxiety and all kinds of things. I never for a minute thought you’re old enough to be going through—”
“Let me finish my coffee, and then we’ll go.”
Inez babbled about each and every Karamazov brother as I drove to Hollow Valley and turned onto the blacktop road. Pandora Butterfly was flitting elsewhere, thank goodness. Explaining her to Inez (or to anybody, for that matter) would be a waste of oxygen. I was annoyed that Terry’s rental car was not parked out front. Inez, in contrast, was thrilled about every detail of the setting.
“Oh wow! It’s fantastic!” she said. “It’s classy and unique, and it somehow fits right into all the grass and trees and everything. The shingles look like scallop shells. My grandmother had a porch like that, with rocking chairs and a swing. I loved sitting out there on summer nights, watching the lightning bugs and listening to the cicadas.” She scrambled out of the car and ran up to the porch. “This is so cool, Ms. Malloy. Way cool.”
If Caron didn’t physically resemble me, I’d have wondered if there might have been a mix-up in the hospital neonatal ward. I was eager to show Inez the interior as soon as the house was mine (and Peter’s and Caron’s, I amended grudgingly). “The owner must have gone to see his attorney, but surely he’ll be back soon,” I said. “Go have a look at the pool while I try to find out if he’s spoken to any of the neighbors.”
Inez zipped around the corner of the house as I got into the car. The only resident who might have information was Nattie, so I continued up the road and parked near the statue. I didn’t notice Jordan until I walked up the path to the Old Tavern. She was hunkered under a shrub by the door, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“Hey,” she said.
“Good morning,” I responded with a polite smile. “Is Nattie here?”
“She went into town to buy groceries. I asked her to get me a pack of cigarettes, and she bawled me out for fifteen minutes. You’d think that I’d asked for a stick of dynamite and a box of matches.”
“Do you smoke?”
She disengaged branches and crawled out onto the lawn. “No, but I was really, really bored. It’s impossible to get a reaction from Aunt Margaret Louise. When I told her that back home I made money by stripping in the boys’ locker room, she made this weird gurgly sound and put on the teakettle. I tried it on Aunt Felicia, but she just looked at me. Pandora wants me to go on some vegan cleansing regime and meditate in the moonlight. Like I’m going to subsist on grass and tofu!”
I looked at her for the first time. Under the piercings and Mohawk, I could see a fourteen-year-old girl with a lot of emotional problems. Her body had not yet begun to mature; she could easily pass as a prepubescent boy. I had a feeling that Jordan was not popular with peers of either gender. My pragmatic inclination was to dismiss her, but my maternal side butted in. “My daughter couldn’t come with me today, but one of her friends volunteered. She’s out behind Winston’s house, hunting for herbs. You’re welcome to join her.”
Jordan sneered. “Like I want to hang out with some botany nerd? I can take care of myself.”
“As you wish,” I murmured. I was not surprised when she put her hands in her pockets and ambled ever so casually toward the mill, then faded into the woods in the
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