4

      ON CASSIE’S WAY HOME that night she made a trip to the library. For nostalgia’s sake, she told herself, moving directly to the small paperback section at the back. It smelled the same and, oddly comforted by that, Cassie sank into one of the beanbag chairs that had surely been in the same spot since the flower-power sixties. How many hours had she sat in here, inhaling one historical romance after another, lost in a world that had always been a better world than hers?

      “Oh, Barry, stop. You’re making my knees weak.”

      What? Cassie craned her neck. Behind her, in the doorway to the backrooms, stood Mrs. Wilkens whispering into a cell phone.

      “I know you’re my husband, you silly man. But I told you, we can’t have phone sex until my break.” She grinned.

      The old lady with the severe white bun and pursed lips grinned. At her husband. As he gave her phone sex.

      Cassie had entered the twilight zone.

      “Call me later,” Mrs. Wilkens whispered. “Yes, I’ll bring home another romance novel, don’t worry. Some new ones just came in…. I love you, too.” She slipped her cell phone into her pocket and then went very still when she saw Cassie.

      Who didn’t quite know what to say. A definite first. “You…you have phone sex?” she managed to say.

      “Romance readers have a sixty percent better sex life than nonreaders,” she sniffed. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have put out some more books for you.”

      “You’d have…” Cassie narrowed her gaze, suddenly transported back in time. Every time she’d sneaked into the library, she’d always found a stack of new books seemingly waiting just for her. It had been her own little miracle. Her oasis in a life of hell. “You…” Oh, my God. “You.”

      Mrs. Wilkens nodded. “We had the same tastes. And it seemed to keep you off the streets.”

      “But…I thought you hated me.”

      Mrs. Wilkens smiled, her face softening. “You thought everyone hated you. Hang on, I’ll find you some books.”

      Oh, yeah. She’d definitely entered the twilight zone. But Mrs. Wilkens came back with three books Cassie had been eager to read. Unbelievable.

      When she finally left the library and drove home, she sat in her car for a moment, staring up at the big, dark house on Lilac Hill, wishing she’d thought to leave every light burning.

      “Meow.”

      “Yeah, yeah.” With one last apprehensive look at the dark walkway, Cassie got out of the car, reached for the cat and got hissed at for her efforts. “Fine. Walk. Hope there aren’t any dogs out here.”

      Miss Priss lifted her chin and leapt from the car like royalty, leading the way with her head held high.

      Cassie had to admit, the attitude helped. When she imitated the cat and threw her shoulders back, head up, she felt better. Invisible. Or was that invincible?

      She just wished she had claws like Miss Priss, on the off chance she needed them.

      But no one jumped out and yelled boo.

      There was, however, a package on the porch, which gave her one bad moment. She opened it, pretending her fingers weren’t shaking as she did so, and found the most incredible-smelling batch of chocolate cookies. Her mouth watered—mostly because she’d skipped lunch.

      “What do you think, Miss Priss? Poisonous? Or delicious?” When the cat didn’t so much as look at her, Cassie took a tentative bite. “Mmm.”

      She’d been walking through the decadent house flipping on all the lights, munching on cookies for dinner, when the knock came at the door. Cassie opened it and found the woman from town standing there, minus the toddler.

      “Hi, remember me? Stacie?” Stacie grinned at the cookie in each of Cassie’s hands. “Oh, good. You’re enjoying the goodies I made.”

      “They’re heaven,” Cassie admitted. “I have no idea how I’ll fit into my work clothes in the fall, but thanks.”

      Stacie smiled. “No problem.”

      Cassie nodded in what she considered a friendly, neighborly manner, not that she’d ever had any neighbors to be friendly with. When she’d lived in this town growing up, she hadn’t been allowed to talk to her neighbors—except for Kate—as in the house on one side of the duplex had lived a man who’d sold drugs, and in the other the resident had a police record a mile long.

      In New York, she’d never even seen her neighbors.

      So she didn’t have a lot of experience to go on here. She waited for Stacie to get to the bottom of her visit. To tell her what she wanted.

      But the woman just stood there. Cute as a button. Still smiling.

      “Uh…” Cassie offered a half smile. “So…”

      “This is where you invite me in for a drink,” Stacie said helpfully.

      “Oh.” Cassie looked over her shoulder and wondered if she’d cleaned up after herself. “Well…”

      “That’s okay.” Stacie reached out and squeezed her hand. “We can work our way up to that. But you could do me one little favor.”

      Here it was.

      “Tomorrow’s opening day of the carnival.”

      “Carnival.”

      “Don’t tell me you don’t know about Pleasantville’s annual carnival! The one to raise money for arts in the schools. Held at the beginning of every summer.”

      Oh, Cassie knew all about the carnival. She’d sneaked her first beer at the carnival. Her first cigarette.

      Lost her virginity.

      Oh, yeah, she had a whole host of whoopee memories from the annual event. “Let’s just say I’m not particularly fond of it,” she said carefully.

      “Oh.”

      Stacie