Casey finished up with the darks, measured out the detergent, and began the cycle. “Eric VanDiepenbos—do you know him?—was pretty close to her.”
Lillian’s head jerked away from the window. “Oh. Oh, yes, poor boy. He’s had a hard time of it all. We had hopes… But with his family being what it is, there wasn’t much chance of anything happening.”
Casey opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but Rosemary bustled by the windows of the room and burst in the door with a handful of flowers. “For our table. Aren’t they lovely?”
Lillian’s face lit up. “They are. Let’s go find a vase.”
And Casey’s chance for questioning was gone. She followed the women into the kitchen, where Lillian was pulling a vase out of the china cupboard.
“I’m going to take the bike downtown, if that’s okay.”
Rosemary looked up from her flowers. “Of course, dear, you go right ahead. It’s in the shed out back. The door handle sticks a little, so you have to jiggle it.”
“Thanks.”
Casey actually had to jiggle the handle quite a bit to get the door open, but she eventually won the struggle. The bike, an old Schwinn three-speed, sat enmeshed in cobwebs and trinkets, and she had to work to rescue it from what looked like the detritus of many years. Perhaps from before these women had even owned the place.
By the time she had the bike in the yard she was smeared with grease and dust, and spidery silk clung to her clothes. She left the bike in the shade and went back inside.
“Oh, my,” Lillian said.
“Yes. Would you have a rag I could use?”
Rosemary laughed. “And a bucket for soapy water. You’ll find everything you need in the garage.”
“Not the same shed?”
“No. We actually use the garage. Just go in the side door.”
Casey followed her directions and went into the garage. She flipped on the light. And stood staring at the shiny Pegasus Orion. One of those supposedly hybrid SUVs, huge on promise, not so big on follow-through. Twice as big as the company’s cars. Black, with brand new tires and not a speck of dirt, the SUV squatted there, like a predator. Casey pressed back against the door. In all of her dreams, she’d never have thought those women inside would have something like this…
Standing in her spot, she tore her eyes from the vehicle and searched for the promised bucket. There it was, on a shelf, just down the wall. She scooted sideways for several feet, until she could reach out and snag the pail. Inside it were a jug of car wash, a sponge, and Turtle Wax. She didn’t think she’d be waxing the bike, so she took out the little container and tossed it back on the shelf.
A few steps back along the wall she could feel the door behind her. Turning the knob, she spun out of the garage, and stood outside, breathing deeply. She let out a nervous sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan. The idea of Rosemary, with her bright red robe and orange hair, at the wheel of the Orion was enough to give her something to think about for a while, something to take her mind off the idea of a Pegasus vehicle so close to hand.
The bike cleaned up pretty well, and Casey was able to get the grease stains muted, if not completely off her pants, and the spider webs removed from her shirt. She rinsed out the bucket with the hose and set the sponge in the sun to dry before walking the bike down the lane and toward town. She hoped the tires would survive the trip, as flat and old as they were.
They did, and she found a free air pump on the side of the filling station, a ten-minute walk from the B & B. The rest of the bike needed a little attention, however, and she spent a few dollars for a can of WD-40 to spray the chain, paying the middle-aged attendant who seemed to be manning the station on his own, and squeezed the brakes several times to loosen them up. She took a couple of minutes to ride slowly around the parking lot, and was soon convinced the bike was ready to roll.
The town was quiet, as it was the evening before. The occasional car passed Casey as she pedaled around the streets, but she saw only two people outside, both walking briskly, with their heads down. No young parents occupied the playground—probably taking the opportunity for their children’s afternoon naps—and Casey met no other bikes.
Casey rode past Home Sweet Home, even stopping to peer inside, but the interior was dark. There were still a couple of hours until Eric and his crew would be getting ready for their subdued dinner crowd.
The church down the street stood just as silent as the day before, and Casey didn’t stop. Instead, she continued down the block of shops, where she found a bike stand. She parked the bike, considering briefly that she didn’t have a lock for it, and scanned the stores. Only a few of them seemed to actually be open for business. The bakery, of course. And the antique shop. And, on the corner, Wayne’s Pharmacy.
She went in.
A bell tinged when she opened the door, but no one came running. The check-out counter stood empty. She assumed someone was actually watching the place, but from the looks of it she was pretty much alone. Slowly she walked up and down the aisles of wrapping paper, Willow Tree angels, and summer toys on clearance. Eventually she found the personal items aisle, where she stocked up on sunscreen, toothpaste, and Band-Aids. The pharmacy section had the vitamins she used, and she grabbed a small bottle.
By the time she made her way back up front to the check-out, the cashier was behind the counter.
“Becca?”
The woman she’d last seen at play rehearsal glanced up from wiping the glass countertop. She smiled, looking surprised, but pleasantly so. “Casey, right? So you didn’t leave town?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m glad. You’ll be at rehearsal tonight?” She looked down at the countertop, then back at Casey, obviously trying not to appear too eager.
Casey sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
Becca’s shoulders relaxed. “Great. I’ll be there, too.”
“A smaller role?”
“Bigger one, actually. Just a different kind. I’m going to be the stage manager.”
“Oh, good. I was wondering about that. I didn’t see one last night.”
“We had one. But she quit. She and Thomas didn’t get along.”
Casey grunted. “Imagine that.”
“He’s not all bad.” Becca grinned.
“I guess there’s always hope.”
The bell above the door dinged again, and Casey watched as a man in a suit hustled into the store. He nodded at Casey, but continued toward the back, where the actual drug part of the pharmacy stood behind a tall counter.
Casey paid for her items, and Becca was bagging them when the man got in line behind her.
“See you tonight, then?” Becca said.
“Seven-o’clock.”
Becca turned to the man. “Hello, Mr. Willems.”
Casey hesitated, then took her time checking out a rack of cards at the front of the store. Could this be Karl Willems? The CEO of HomeMaker, who had laid off all of those people at Christmas, and planned to do the same to the rest of them? Casey peeked around the display to check him out.
Handsome in a business kind of way. Gray hair, trimmed close. Tanned skin. Face beginning to show signs of age. Taller than Casey, by at least several inches.
“Yes, good afternoon,” he said to Becca.
Becca glanced outside. “Looks like a nice day out there. Is it warm?”
“What? Oh, yes. Warm enough.”
Becca rang up his purchase and slid it into a bag. “Will there be anything else today? One of those candy bars you like?”
“Hmm?”
“A Hershey bar with Almonds?”
“Oh, yes, I do like those. How did you know?”
Becca’s smile looked forced.
“I don’t need one today, though,” Willems said. “Thank you.”
He took his bag and left, again nodding to Casey as he passed her. Casey stepped out from behind the display.