to act nonchalant. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Who’s Simone?” Lacey asked. “Evil stepmother?”
“No, so much worse,” I said. “She was my best friend until I found out she was sleeping with my dad behind my back.”
Violet and Tillie shared a shocked glance. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. It’s part of why I moved out here.” Fresh anger bubbled up and I dropped my crochet hooks in my lap. “You know what really pisses me off?”
“Let it out, baby girl,” Cara said.
“He sent Simone in first to try to coax me into talking to him. Why would he think that would work? Do neither of them realize how much their betrayal hurt me? I haven’t even talked to Simone in weeks and she walked in and hugged me like we were still best friends.”
“She touched you? I’ll claw her face off,” Cara said, and Grace put a soothing hand on her arm.
“I just don’t understand how they can be so clueless.”
“Selfishness breeds blindness,” Gram said. “I’m sorry that happened, Cricket.”
“Thanks.”
“What did they want?” Grace asked.
“Dad wants me to come home and go back to work. I told him no, but he wasn’t happy about it.”
“Was he always so controlling?” Cara asked.
“Pretty much. He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get his way.”
“Good for you for standing up for yourself,” Cara said.
Lacey nodded. “Absolutely. That’s not easy.”
“Thanks. It was nerve wracking, but thankfully Sasquatch came running out of the woods and cut our little reunion short.”
“I swear, you’re the only other person that dog likes,” Grace said.
Gram’s needles clicked. “She’s part of his pack, now.”
I smiled. I was, wasn’t I?
“Grace, I keep meaning to bring this up,” Tillie said. “Did you ever discover anything more about that mirror you found?”
“Not much,” she said. “Cara and I hit a dead end and then I started planning a wedding. I haven’t though much about it.”
“What mirror?” I asked.
“Someone hid a box with an old mirror and a stack of anonymous love notes beneath the floorboards in my house,” she said. “The mirror was engraved with the name Eliza Bailey, but I’ve had a hard time finding out anything about her.”
“Thanks to me, or at least thanks to me hiring Libby Stewart, we did find out that Eliza went missing,” Cara said. “And it’s possible a Haven had something to do with it.”
“Is that how the feud started?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Grace said. “Everyone in town has a theory about why the families started feuding. But people in town also say you’re in witness protection because you’re the daughter of a motorcycle gang leader, so…”
“People say that?” I asked. “What people?”
“Oh, I started that rumor,” Cara said, her tone nonchalant.
I laughed. “Why would you start a rumor about me?”
“I just like to see how outrageous I can make them and still get them to spread,” she said. “I also started the rumor that Asher escaped from prison.”
Grace sipped her drink. “Mrs. Darby still believes that, you know. She gives him the side eye every time she sees him.”
“And she probably thinks Fiona is in witness protection.”
“Anyway, my point is, you can’t believe town lore,” Grace said. “And it’s hard to find any reliable information from before the 1920s. There was a fire that burned down half the town and a lot of records were lost. All I know about Eliza is that she was receiving anonymous love letters, and then she went missing. There was a notice in the newspaper offering a reward for information on her whereabouts, and it had what looked like a list of people wanted for questioning. One was a Haven—John Haven. But we don’t know if he was actually involved, or how, or whether the families were already feuding then or not.”
“They could have been secret lovers torn apart by the feud,” Cara said. “Or maybe he murdered her.”
“Or maybe they died together tragically,” Grace said with a sigh.
“Did you say John Haven? Why does that name sound familiar?” I searched my memory. The only Haven I really knew was Luke. Except— “I know! I saw a picture of a John Haven. It was a really old photo—black and white and very faded.”
Grace let her crochet hooks drop in her lap. “You’re kidding. Where?”
“In Luke Haven’s shop. He has some vintage auto-racing photos behind the front desk. I’m almost positive he said one of them was John Haven.”
“Do you know how old the photo was?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know the exact year, but early 1900s.”
“Wow,” Grace said.