Page 27 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
His brows rise in question.
She continues, “Uh, your daughter? Who also stayed in this ‘dead-end town’?”
He waves a hand. “That’s different. You left and got your degree and chose to come back. You have a future. You’re just taking a breather while you figure out what you want to do.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Sure, that’s it. I’m just training for my big move to the city.”
“You are,” Smits says.
“Well, since Iamin training, let me take photos of this.”
Nine
The Smitses are leaving. Sheriff Smits insisted on doing an hour-long walk of the property, which I begged off from to get some work done. They didn’t find anything, but Josie still promises to do a daily sweep, over my objections. After her dad is in the truck, she comes back to where I’m outside the cottage, watching them go.
“You okay if I still bring that pie later?” she says. “I know you’re working.”
“I don’t have set hours. I just need to get my time in. Pie would be great.”
Her face lights up. “Mom makes the best.”
“I remember that.”
“Good. Then I will be here with pie, which is totally a good-neighbor-plus-business call and not because I’m desperate to talk to another woman under thirty.”
I choke out a laugh. “Your dad wasn’t exaggerating then? About all our generation leaving?”
“He was not.” She leans one hip against a tree. “The town is fine economically—in the summer, we’re booming more than ever. But if all the young people leave…?” She shrugs. “We get a lot of retirees moving in these days. It’s not the same.”
“I can imagine.”
“Even the tourists are aging up. People our age can’t afford time off work plus vacation expenses.”
“I hear you. This will be my first getaway since college. And I’m still working.”
“We get some young families,” she says, “but those moms aren’t exactly hanging out at the bar, chatting up socially starved local girls. So, if I come on too strong, let me know. I just…” Another shrug. “I probably remember you better than you remember me. So I may get a little overeager.”
“No worries.” I wave at my ankle monitor. “With this, I won’t be hanging out in the bars either, but I could use some company.”
“Good. I can provide that. But yes, the under-thirty-five crowd here is pretty much me and Ben, and he still treats me like I’m twelve, so it does get lonely.” She lowers her voice. “And that was an awkward segue to the subject of Ben. Please don’t listen to my dad. Ben’s a good caretaker. I don’t know the details of his deal with your grandfather, but even if Ben resents it, he does his job. The shed was an oversight.”
Guilt strums through me, and I hedge with, “I’m not even sure he left the shed open. Gail or I might have.”
“I’ll mention that to my dad. Get him off Ben’s back.” She glances over at the car. “I should go. I’ll see you this afternoon. I really am looking forward to having you back, Sam. I have good memories of those times, chasing after the older kids, especially you and—” She stops short and flushes. “Well, you know.”
I nod somberly. “I do. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I have good memories of those times, chasing after the older kids, especially you and—
I know what Josie had been about to say, and why she’d cut herself off.
Especially you and… Austin Vandergriff.
Ben’s little brother.
How much does Josie remember? How much did she understand back then? Not enough, I realize.
And I’m glad of that.
