Page 10 of Big Risks

Me:I'm halfway there. With maple syrup, as instructed.

I spot the community center at the end of the block as I pass downtown. Its parking lot is already filled with cars sporting local bumper stickers like "Big Wood: Small Town, Big… Heart" and "Honk If You Love Pancakes." Through the windows, I can see people milling about, laughing and talking with the easy familiarity of those who have known each other all their lives.

Hesitating at the bottom of the steps, I’m suddenly aware that I'm about to walk into a room where, except for me, everyone knows everyone. But before I can second-guess myself, Becky appears at the door, hands on her hips.

"I was about to send out a search party," she says, grinning. "Come on, Mrs. Geller's pancakes wait for no one."

The community center turns out to be a converted Victorian house with a sprawling wraparound porch filled with mismatched chairs and hanging plants. The empty lot beside it has been converted to a makeshift parking lot and the buzz of conversation spills out through open windows.

"You made it!" Delaney, Jace’s girlfriend, spots me from the porch and waves enthusiastically. Her hair is twisted into a messy bun today, tendrils escaping around her face. "Come meet everyone."

She grabs my arm and pulls me inside behind Becky, where the smell of butter and maple nearly knocks me over. The main room is packed with people of all ages, from babies to seniors, gathered around folding tables laden with plates of golden pancakes.

"Mrs. Geller!" Becky calls across the room. "I brought our newest resident!"

A tiny woman with silver hair pulled back in a bun and impossibly bright blue eyes turns our way. Her glasses sparkle with gemstones filling the frames, make me smile. Despite her diminutive stature, she moves through the crowd as if she’s got a backstage pass to life itself, every person clearing a path like they’ve been trained for this exact moment.

"So you're the Savannah girl who bought the Jenkins place," she says, looking me up and down with undisguised curiosity. "Brave of you. That house has been empty for years."

"It needs some love," I say, smiling.

"Don't we all, dear." She pats my arm. "Come get some pancakes. You're too skinny."

As Mrs. Geller leads me to the food table, she introduces me to what feels like the entire town: the postmaster who promises to hold packages if I'm not home, the librarian who invites me to join their book club, the owner of the hardware store who offers a standing discount for "first-year homeowners," and at least a dozen others whose names immediately blur together.

"Don't worry about remembering everyone," Mrs. Geller says, noticing my overwhelmed expression. "They'll remember you, and that's what matters in a small town."

With a plate piled high with pancakes, I find a seat next to Becky, who's already halfway through her stack.

"So," I say between bites of the most delicious pancakes I've ever tasted, "what's the story with my house? Mrs. Geller and you have called it 'the Jenkins place.'"

While I’m trying to sound casual, I’m really hoping to get some info that might explain the letters.

Becky dabs maple syrup from the corner of her mouth. "Oh, that's right. You don't know the history. It belonged to Eleanor Jenkins, a widow whose husband died in the seventies. She lived there alone until she passed about five years ago."

"Did she have family?"

"A daughter, I think. Left town suddenly years ago. There was some talk..."

"What kind of talk?"

Winnie lowers her voice. "Small town gossip, mostly. The daughter, Rachel, I think that’s her name, was involved with someone. It ended badly, and she left town. She sent herdaughter to stay with Eleanor over the summers and they were close too until… well, Eleanor never really talked about it."

My mind immediately goes to the letters. "When was this?"

"I'm not sure exactly. Before my time. Mrs. Geller would know."

As if summoned by her name, Mrs. Geller appears behind us. "Know what, dear?"

"The Jenkins girl," Winnie says. "Rachel. What happened with her?"

Mrs. Geller's expression clouds. "Such a shame that her daughter and granddaughter suffered the same fate. Eleanor was never the same after."

Very cryptic, like she is dancing around what happened on purpose.

"Do you know who she was involved with?" I ask, trying to sound casually curious rather than intensely invested.

Mrs. Geller gives me a shrewd look. "Found something in that old house, have you?"

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