Page 52 of Memories of the Lost

They hurried down the street. Tillie called her name before she went inside.

She turned. Unlike the owner of Mother Earth Foods, Calla had not aged well. She was stooped, with a mild dowager’s hump and entirely white hair. “Tillie!” she cried. “How are you, honey?”

Sweetheart, honey, dear.“I’m good. How are you?”

“Been better.” She cursed softly. “This damned lock. Will you get it for me, young man?”

“Of course. These old locks can be sticky, can’t they?” He opened it and stepped back. “If you have some WD-40, I can spray it for you.”

“Well, that’s really sweet. I do have some somewhere. Come on in.”

Tillie touched his arm in thanks for his kindness.

The store smelled like fresh laundry. Calla pointed to a door in the back. “Look in the cupboard over the toilet for the WD-40, son.”

He winked at Tillie.

Huffing a little, Calla swung her enormous fabric bag on to the counter. “What brings you to town, Tillie? I heard you’re selling your mom’s farm.”

“Yeah. I just don’t want that life, I’m sorry to say, and it seems a waste to hang on to it and let it go to seed.”

“Good choice. It’s a hard life.”

“I found some papers my mother had,” she said without preamble. Calla was a straightforward person and expected the same of others. “They made me wonder about where she came from. Do you remember her talking about her life before?”

“It was never reliable.” She shook her head. “That was always the thing, wasn’t it? She sometimes said she was from Maine, sometimes California, sometimes New Hampshire. It was like she couldn’t remember herself, which ...” She raised her brows and let Tillie fill in the blanks.

“She might not have.”

“Right. I’m glad to see you’re okay. Doing really well for yourself.”

Tillie was surprised anew, but of course, it was a small town, and people talked about each other. “Thank you.” She paused. “Did she ever talk about a daughter that died?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “No. Did she have one?”

“I think she did,” Tillie said. “I’d like to find out more if I can. Was she close to anyone else in town that you can remember, maybe when she first got here?”

Calla looked toward the window, peering back in time. “She had a boyfriend for a while. Eddie Johnson.”

“Is he still here?”

“I haven’t heard about him dying. You can find him on the old mill road, on the other side of the lake. He’s got about thirty acres or so.”

It was quite a distance to the other side of the lake, but she made note of his name. Maybe she could track down his phone number. “Thanks, Calla.”

“You take care of yourself, sweetie.”

She nodded.

Outside, Jon said, “I think you need to eat.”

“Yeah. Let’s get some burgers and look up my mom’s name.”

When they’d settled at a small table in a local café, Tillie said, “I’ve been in so many restaurants the past few days! I just can’t seem to remember to get groceries.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.” He tapped her menu. “Eat something hearty. I need you to take care of yourself.”

The simple phrase almost shattered her. She closed her eyes, willing the sharp, sudden emotion away, but tears welled up beneath her eyelids and seeped out. She covered her face with her hands.