Page 73 of A Little Luck
“Yeah.”
I watch as he walks up the drive, studying the exterior of Gwen’s house. Unlike my mom, Gwen cultivates roses, and several large bushes grow around the perimeter. The scent is distinct and unusual—just like everything Gwen does.
“Did she always live alone after her husband died?”
“As far as I can remember—other than Britt, of course.”
He walks a short distance up the driveway, inspecting the crawl space beneath the porch.“How long has she been here?”
My eyebrow arches. “You think Gwen might know something?”
He straightens and looks up at the two chimneys on each side of the structure. “I was just thinking, a widow with a little girl and a big house. Maybe somebody stayed with her at some point.”
“We can ask her if you’d like. She’s probably at the Star Parlor, but she’s always down for a good mystery.”
“I’ll talk to her when I get back to town.” He returns to where I’m waiting on the sidewalk.
“What’s that little house down there?” He nods to one of the smallest homes in this older part of town.
I know the place well, although I’m not sure it’s considered part of the neighborhood. For a long time it sat empty, and I think it was once a carriage house back in the day.
“That’s Martha Jackson’s place. It’s where Piper grew up.”
“Has Martha always lived there?” One of his eyes narrows like he’s winking at me, and I realize it’s a twitch he tries to hide behind the cigar smoke.
“No, they moved here when we were kids, and Cass came a year later with her mom.” I remember those days so well. “Crystal didn’t last the summer, but they were all good friends until she left.”
“They?”
“Gwen, Martha, and Crystal.” I don’t know why I never realized the three mothers were close before their daughters were.
“Did they live together?”
“Cass’s mom stayed with her sister Charlotte on the other side of town.”
He nods, continuing in the direction of Martha’s old place. “So Crystal had family here, but Martha didn’t?”
“She had Gwen.” I shrug. “When you’re a kid, you don’t think much about your friends’ parents. They’re part of the scenery, the constants.”
Using that word reminds me of my last talk with Sheila. Piper and I clicked from the first day we met, and I would think about her even when we were apart.She’s your constant…
“You don’t seem to know much about them when you grow up either.”
“Sorry?” His question pulls me out of my memory of Sheila.
“You don’t seem to know the people right here in front of you.”
Catching him by the shoulder, I need to stop this déjà vu loop. “I know Martha, but she’s always kept to herself. She doesn’t like being questioned about her life.”
“Sounds like her daughter got it honest.”
“Piper’s not Martha.” Although I can’t argue with him—there is a similarity there. “We can walk to the paper office and ask her about it if you want.”
“Why does she live in a shack in this nice part of town? It’s like she’s hiding.”
“She’d probably say she is.”
“She would?” Marshall’s getting excited, and I hate to burst his bubble.