*
After passing several neighborhoods of coastal-colored clapboard houses, Kate slowed as she approached the traffic circle in the middle of town. She didn’t remember going into town the last time she was here, so it took her by surprise. The center of Suley was marked by a narrow silo, old and rusted, towering above the shops on the circle. It looked so completely out of place that she simply had to stare. The sign on the small park surrounding the silo said: SULEY GRANARY, BUILT IN 1801. Next to it was another sign that said: MEET SUE, THE OFFICIAL TOWN COW, EVERY SATURDAY FROM 9–1.
She found the Fresh Mart on the circle and parked in front of it. They all got out and walked into the store. It was a touristy market with a deli and a café and wooden floors that creaked. The whole place smelled like waffle cones. Bulahdeen went straight to the wine shelves. Selma floated around the produce section, acting bored, picking up a green bell pepper, then putting it down with a sigh. Kate and Devin went to the business counter and waited for the young woman with the blond ponytail to get off the phone.
“Why don’t you go help Bulahdeen,” Kate said to Devin. “Don’t let her drop anything.”
A few minutes later, the young woman finally got off the phone. “Sorry about that,” she said.
“No problem.” Kate handed her the envelope from Lisette.
The girl read the note inside, then looked up at Kate. “Are you staying out at the lake?”
“Yes. I came to see Eby. She’s my great-aunt.”
The girl reached up and pulled her ponytail tighter. She couldn’t be more than twenty-one. “I don’t think I’ve ever met any of Eby’s family.”
“It’s been fifteen years since I was last here.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll box up the things on Lisette’s list. It’ll just take a minute,” the girl said. “Lisette special-orders some strange foods from France, but she’s a good customer. Not like some of the guests at Lost Lake. There’s this one old woman who vacations there every summer. When she comes in here, she’s so hateful to all the women, but the men fawn over her. My dad makes a fool of himself. I don’t know what he sees in her. She has this hideous red hair.”
“Do you mean Selma?” Kate nodded to Selma, who was now laughing at something the man stocking Bosc pears was saying.
The girl made a face. “That’s her.”
“She drove in with us.”
“My condolences. Now the little old lady, I like. She always buys wine, and when the checkout girls ask for her birth date for the register, she always makes things up. October twelfth, 1492. July fourth, 1776.” They both watched as Bulahdeen took her place in line at the checkout. She was carrying so many bottles that she had to lean back. Devin was hovering close behind her, as if to catch her if she fell. “I can’t believe she’s buying more wine. She was just in here yesterday.”
Kate smiled and turned back to the girl. “She’s throwing a farewell party for Eby.”
“So it’s true?” The girl asked. “Eby is selling Lost Lake? Yesterday, Bulahdeen said Eby was selling, but, you know, it’s Bulahdeen. I didn’t know if it was true or not.”
“It’s true. At least, that’s what Eby says.”
“That makes me sad. I haven’t seen Eby in a while, but she was always nice to me. When I was in high school, she let me bring my boyfriends out to the lake, and we’d borrow one of her rowboats because she always said the middle of a lake was the best place to fall in love.” The girl absentmindedly began to pick at the clumps of thick mascara sticking to her lashes. “When is the party?”
“Saturday afternoon, I think.”
The girl nodded, then turned and grabbed a cardboard box from the stack behind her and went to get Lisette’s special-order groceries from the back.
“I think I may have inadvertently invited the girl at the front desk to the party,” Kate said, joining Bulahdeen and Devin in line. She took a few bottles from Bulahdeen’s load.
“Oh, that’s all right,” Bulahdeen said. “The more the merrier.”
“The more the merrier? What do you mean?” Selma asked, walking over to them. The four of them together drew some attention. They didn’t look like your average tourists: an older woman in a tight red dress and heels; an elderly woman with her arms full of wine bottles; a toe-headed girl in glasses, a tutu, and a bike helmet; and Kate. All before noon.
“The owner’s daughter. Brittany. She’s coming to the farewell party,” Bulahdeen said.
“That girl hates me,” Selma said.
“She might not if you stopped flirting with her daddy. You’re not coming anyway. What’s it to you?”
Selma shook her head and walked away. “It’s nothing to me.”