Small-Town Secrets. Pamela Tracy
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Adam hadn’t known that. “Yolanda’s pretty enchanted with the book that got left behind.”
“Book? What book?”
“Yolanda didn’t mention it to you?”
“I didn’t go to dinner with her. Then this morning when I got here she was already gone. What kind of book?”
“It’s like a published journal and has all kinds of town history events and even some drawings. This house is in it.”
Rosi shook her head. “Journals don’t mean anything. Most of us girls kept them back then. And not very much in them was based on fact. Best Yolanda stop thinking about the Ventimiglias. There are none left. Ivy had an older brother but he died in an accident when he was nineteen. Ivy never married.”
“You kept track of her? How do you know she didn’t marry?”
“It’s a small town, even though they moved, word trickled back. If she’d have married, I’d have heard about it. Weddings were a bit more important in those days, especially for the wealthy. It would have been in the paper, complete with pictures and pedigrees.”
“Why didn’t Ivy and Adam’s great-grandmother like each other?” In the quiet of the bookstore, Yolanda’s voice seemed loud, and both Adam and Rosi startled. Neither had heard the door open and close, yet here was Yolanda, holding a bag of groceries and looking as if she’d been standing there since the conversation began.
“It was a long time ago,” Rosi said. “Some say it had to do with Ivy’s brother. Maybe a little. Then, too, I don’t think Loretta had much respect for Ivy, and Ivy knew it.”
“High school’s hard on girls,” Yolanda said. “There’s always a cat fight or two. But they couldn’t have moved just because of that. If people moved after every teenage drama, there’d be a For Sale sign on every other house.”
“You’re jaded,” Rosi accused, “and way too practical. Ivy’s family made all the calls in this town. And we learned to deal with it. Plus, Ivy’s reputation had to be protected at all costs.”
Adam was amazed. “You’re kidding? Did she do something to ruin her reputation?”
“No, not that I know of. But even associating with the wrong crowd could cause talk. Ivy was told—no, ordered—who to talk to, where and when. Your great-grandmother was a bit ahead of her time. She used to tell Ivy to grow a backbone.” Rosi chuckled. Then she added, “For a while, I thought Ivy and Otis Wilson might get together.”
“Otis from across the street?” Yolanda couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.
Rosi merely smiled. “His family had position, but not enough to satisfy Ivy’s father. Your family—” she nodded at Adam “—lived in the house that’s now the Fremont Bed-and-Breakfast. They were Munros. Of course, that house has been remodeled and added onto so much that it’s hardly recognizable as one of the grand ole ladies that made up the houses on this street.”
Adam needed to ask his grandmother more questions. She’d talked about being a Munro, but until now, how special that was hadn’t occurred to Adam. Today she lived in a condo with a view of a golf course and a man-made lake. “But if their relationship wasn’t the reason the Ventimiglias moved,” he asked Rosi, “what was?”
“Some secrets are better left alone.”
“Gramma, you sound like someone on a Halloween show.”
“Ask your great-grandmother,” Rosi urged Adam. “See if she’s willing to tell you anything.”
“Don’t speak to her without me,” Yolanda demanded, “I’m starting to really get into this small-town history.”
“Sometimes,” Rosi said, “what’s dead and buried should stay dead and buried. Loretta knows that well.”
“Where did Ivy live?” Adam asked.
“Here. This was her house.”
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