started talking over each other as they remembered the Wilkins family.
Bob glanced at Nate and gave a discreet thumbs-up. The subject had been changed, and a new story was being told.
“Years ago, four pretty girls from the East Coast went to Lake Kissel for a month. But Abby Lennon met a Summer Hill boy, Rodney Wilkins,” Mrs. Alderson said, and smiled at Mrs. Hartman. “We went to school with him. Remember how gorgeous he was?” She paused for a moment. “Nearly six feet tall, black hair, blue eyes. Rode a Harley at sixteen. When he walked down the hall, every female stopped to look.”
“Of course, he wasn’t the right sort,” Mr. Alderson added.
“No,” Mrs. Alderson said. “Roddy was pure, primal sex appeal!”
“Mother!” Bob said in mock protest.
“Anyway,” Mrs. Hartman said, “Abby came to visit the year after graduation and she and Roddy fell for each other. They eloped and she stayed in Summer Hill.”
“And Roddy became a deputy sheriff,” Mr. Hartman said. “He was good at his job. Fair and honest.”
“We all liked him,” Mr. Alderson added. “One night I had too much to drink but I still drove home. Roddy stopped me and—” He shrugged. “He could have put me in jail but he didn’t. My life might have been different if it weren’t for him driving me home that night.”
“Abby and he were a happy couple and they had a baby, Crystal, and...” Mrs. Alderson trailed off.
“When Crystal was three or four, Roddy was in a car accident,” Mr. Alderson said. “It wasn’t his fault. The drunk driver walked away unscathed, but Roddy was badly hurt.”
They all looked at Mr. Hartman. “Roddy’s face was torn up and the left side of his body smashed. For the rest of his life he was always in pain and...”
“And always angry,” Mr. Alderson said.
Mrs. Alderson leaned forward. “We think he was abusive to Abby and the child, but they would never say so. She became the support of the family and...” She looked at the others.
“It was bad,” Mr. Hartman said. “The church tried to help, but Roddy wouldn’t accept charity.”
Everyone grew quiet at the memory.
“But now the daughter owns a flower shop,” Nate said.
“Yes, she does,” Mr. Hartman said. “Poor Roddy died just as Crystal was about to graduate from high school. He could no longer ride a motorcycle but one night he tried to.”
“Ran headlong into a tree,” Mr. Alderson said. “Dr. Everett said his alcohol level was through the roof.”
“The day after the funeral,” Mrs. Alderson said, “Crystal and her mother left town. We didn’t see or hear from them until two years ago. Mother and daughter came back to Summer Hill, bought the flower shop and have done a splendid job of running it. They’ve become a true asset to this town.”
“Like Billy Thorndyke,” Nate said softly.
“Billy?” Mr. Hartman asked. “What does he have to do with the Roddy Wilkins family?”
“Nothing that I know of,” Nate said. “It’s just that the stories are the same. At about the same time, the Wilkins family and the Thorndykes abruptly left town.”
Instantly, expressions of distaste were back on the faces of the four older adults. Their spines went rigid and they looked at Nate with glaring stares.
“I can assure you,” Mrs. Alderson said, “that there is no connection between the two families. The Thorndykes were our friends. Why young Billy was so infatuated with Terri Rayburn from the lake, no one could understand—but a Wilkins? Certainly not!”
Mr. Alderson put his hand over his wife’s. “I seem to remember that Abby was friends with Leslie Rayburn.”
“Sometimes,” Nate began, his voice low and hard, “people—”
“Hey!” Bob said as he abruptly stood up. “I think I should take Nate to see his office. Anyone object to our leaving?”
No one moved but their expressions said it all. Please take him away was written on their faces.
* * *
When they were outside, Bob said he’d come with his parents so they’d better take Nate’s car. “Unless you want to walk. Your office is very close.”
“Of course it is,” Nate muttered. “Let’s use my car.” He drove as Bob directed him. They went down a side street and pulled into the drive of a big Victorian house. Nate was glad to see that it wasn’t too gaudy. With the mood he was in, if the house had been painted a dozen shades of purple he might not stop.
He and Bob got out of the car. There were tall shade trees around the house and a gentle