“Angel Cayton,” Ginny said, stuffing tissue down the arms of a pale silk dress that was decorated with seed pearls.
She and I had put the dress on a seamstress form so Ginny could photograph it for an out-of-town client. “I haven’t thought about her in ages. She died fifteen, no, must be twenty years ago now. Angel was a character-very active in town affairs and generous with her money. She started the Watermen’s Fund.”
“Did she leave behind any family?” I asked, though I had little hope of someone remembering stories they were told more than twenty years ago.
“I don’t think so. Evie?”
Evie Brown, one of our elderly customers who came by almost every day, was standing in front of a mirror, trying purses on her arm.
“Evie, do you know if Angel Cayton has any family left around here?”
Miss Brown chewed over the name for a moment.
“Nope,” she said at last. “Angel was an only child and never married. Her sweetheart, Sam Tighe, died in the last war.”
“That’s World War 11,” Ginny whispered to me.
“Angel got killed in a car accident, didn’t she-yes, I’m sure,” Miss Brown answered herself. “Out Talbot Road on Dead Man’s Curve. Though Angel was the only one who ever died there. Why we don’t call it Dead Woman’s Curve, I just don’t know. The county never gets things straight.”
“I don’t think the county named the curve,” Ginny said gently.
“State’s just as bad,” the woman responded, then reached for a red purse on a peg beyond her grasp. I walked over and lifted it down.
“Sorry we can’t help you out,” Ginny told me.
“What’s the problem?” the old woman asked, taking the red purse from me, then looping the others she had tried on my arm, as if I were a store rack.
“I was hoping to talk to Miss Cayton,” I replied.
“Then try Lydia Riley. She’s good at ringing through to the other side.”
I heard Ginny swallow a giggle.
“I’m surprised your grandmother didn’t suggest that,” Evie added. “Helen was over there today.”
She added the red purse to my arm.
“Over where?”
“Seeing Lydia Riley. Right before my appointment this morning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you saying I get mixed up?” Miss Brown asked, her eyes flashing.
“No, no. I’m surprised, that’s all.”
“Me, too,” she agreed amiably. “Far as I know, they haven’t spoken for years. Can’t imagine what they had to talk about.” She peered up at me inquisitively. “Can you?”
“No,” I said, imagining a lot of things.
* * * Sophie dropped by the shop that afternoon. After finishing up with a customer, I joined her at the jewelry case.
She was leaning on her elbows, gazing down at the aquamarine pendant.
“Guess what?” I said. “We have another invite for tomorrow night. A party,” She straightened up and smiled. “Whose? The only party I know about is Kristy’s.”
“That’s it.”
Her face fell. “I wasn’t invited, and I don’t think Kristy would be thrilled if I just showed up. I haven’t been part of her crowd since middle school. You go to the party, and we can see the movie Friday night.”
“But you’re not crashing it,” I told her. “Matt is asking you.”
“Matt?” Sophie’s cheeks grew pink. “Kristy will kill me!
“But I thought you liked him. And I thought you said he doesn’t date one person.”
“I do like him. And he doesn’t date one person. And she’ll still be mad as anything.”
“Who cares? You can talk to me at the party. I’m going with Alex.”
“Oh! I have to think about this, Megan.”
“Alex said you used to be best friends.”
“Yeah, forever ago.” Sophie went over to the silk dress Ginny had put on the seamstress form and traced its seed pearl design with her finger. Ginny came out of the storeroom, eyed Sophie, then eyed the dress. She held her head to one side and squinted, an action that usually meant we were about to rearrange a display.
Sophie turned back to me. “Alex and I used to spend every day together at school and during the summer, crabbing time,” she said. “He could always convince me to chicken neck off the bridge at four in the morning. I was the only person who’d go out with him in his old boat in pouring rain to set a trot line. I really liked being around him and the water.”
“Then this should be fun.”
Sophie didn’t look so sure. “I hope he’s forgotten about the valentine I sent him in fifth grade.”
“Why?” I asked.
“It was so embarrassing. Alex wanted to hang out with the guys, and they wouldn’t let a girl tag along. I wanted him to know he was important to me, so I made him this valentine heart. I drew crab legs around it for lace, and a boat oar for the arrow.”
I laughed out loud and Sophie blushed.
“One of his friends found it and showed it to everyone.
They teased him awful. That was pretty much it for Alex and his girl friend.”
She paused and watched Ginny, who opened the jewelry case and took out the aquamarine pendant.
“Listen, Sophie,” I said, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned about guys, it’s that they don’t remember sentimental things, not even a heart with crab legs for lace. Besides, that was fifth grade. I think Alex has changed his mind about hanging out with girls.”