“Agatha Riley was such a treasure,” Mrs. Thalberg gushed, patting Emily’s hand. “You look like her!”
Emily felt a flush of warmth.
“That lovely shade of strawberry blond hair,” Mrs. Thalberg continued. “I was always so jealous.”
Emily hid a smile as she regarded the flaming color the old lady had chosen.
“She was a teacher before she married, and loved children,” Mrs. Thalberg continued. “I always thought it such a shame she only had one herself. When her husband died, she took over the general store and seemed to find a new calling.”
Mrs. Ludlow sighed. “A shame she sometimes had such terrible arguments with her daughter.” Then her eyes widened as if she suddenly remembered she was discussing Emily’s mother. “Oh dear.”
Emily smiled. “I know everything about my mother, Mrs. Ludlow, so you’re not offending me.” She wished she could change the subject, for thinking about her mother was something she seldom did. She didn’t want to imagine Delilah growing up in this town, worrying her own mother endlessly. However, had Delilah discovered her passion for a Wiccan lifestyle in Valentine Valley?
“We often wondered how she supported herself,” Mrs. Thalberg said quietly. “She left Valentine at such a young age.”
“But don’t you remember?” Mrs. Palmer said, waving both wrinkled hands. “Agatha told us that Dorothy started her own business. Imagine that!”
“She changed her name to Delilah,” Emily said, shaking her head.
“How exotic!” Mrs. Palmer exclaimed.
For the first time, Emily thought of her mother from someone else’s viewpoint, and knew that with little education, her mother had provided for her, and in an expensive city, no less. But that didn’t make up for the simpler things she’d lacked, a mother’s love, an interest in her life. There were no school paintings taped to the refrigerator at the Strong house, at least not after her dad died. He’d left his favorites up so long—the Hall of Fame, he’d called them—that they yellowed at the edges. Emily still had a vivid memory of her mother throwing them away, stone-faced, right after her father’s death.
“Nate wrote that your mother died, and you’ve come back to sell the family building,” Mrs. Thalberg said, watching her too closely. “How did she die? She was far too young.”
“A car accident,” Emily replied, feeling a twinge of regret. “It was very sudden, but she didn’t suffer.”
They offered condolences, then sat for a moment, nodding, their silence respectfully spiritual, as if they were kneeling in church.
“You lost her too soon,” Mrs. Thalberg said, “but it’s obvious she raised a fine girl.”
Sometimes Emily believed she raised herself, but she wouldn’t say that aloud. She’d been doing her own laundry by the time she was eight. At least it made her self-sufficient.
“We were sad that Dorothy—Delilah—didn’t return when she sold this house,” Mrs. Palmer said.
Emily stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“Ah, then you don’t remember visiting here at all?” Mrs. Thalberg chimed in. “This was Agatha’s home while she lived.”
“For some reason, I thought she lived above the store,” Emily said slowly.
“No, no, she rented out that apartment,” Mrs. Ludlow said, picking up the tale. “After she died, your mother arranged to sell this old house to the Thalbergs.”
“I always liked it,” Mrs. Thalberg said in a confidential tone. “Agatha and I were close neighbors, of course, and time and again I told her if she ever wanted to sell, she should come to us.”
Close neighbors? Emily thought, not remembering seeing any houses on the near side of the creek. “Oh, the ranch!” she said, smiling. “So that’s your family ranch behind us?”
“The Silver Creek Ranch,” she said with pride. “My husband’s grandfather came to Colorado when they were mining silver in the 1880s. Someone had to provide food for all those miners, so he started running cattle. When the silver went bust, it was the ranches and farms that kept this valley going.”
“And then Aspen became so popular,” Mrs. Ludlow said with a sigh. “Things changed around here. Lots of new people.”
“Things always change,” Mrs. Palmer said firmly. “We change or die.”
“But Renée, the price of land!” Mrs. Ludlow protested. “My granddaughter works in Aspen, and she can’t even afford to live there.”
“So she lives in Basalt, which is closer to us, Connie.” Mrs. Thalberg patted her friend’s arm. “And isn’t that a blessing?”
Mrs. Ludlow gave a slow smile and whispered to Emily, “Don’t tell my granddaughter that I agree with Rosemary about anything.”
Emily smiled, then turned to Mrs. Thalberg. “It was very kind of Nate to allow me to spend the night, but