“They’re made differently,” Julia said, yawning. “Google it. You’ll get a million answers.”

“But we’re librarians. We’re supposed to have the right answer.”

“Not without researching, we aren’t.”

Which reminded me. “New topic. Did you know either of the Bernier brothers in high school?”

“Nope. Bob graduated before I got there, and Brown was, what, a senior when I was a freshman? We didn’t cross paths much. Wouldn’t have even if we’d been in the same class. They were both sports guys, I was theater, and you know how well those two things mix.”

“Even in a school the size of Chilson?” My graduating class, down in Dearborn, had been over six hundred. If Chilson’s was over one hundred, it was a big class. I felt Julia give me a pitying look and I glanced over to make sure I was getting the feeling correctly. “What?”

“Just when I think you’ve gotten the hang of small-town life,” she said, “you say something so patently ridiculous that I wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“You just used the word ‘gotten’ twice in one sentence.”

There was a short silence. “I did, didn’t I?” She sighed, and after a long pause she said, “Minnie, there’s something I need to tell you.”

All the life and fun were gone from her voice, and in the space of a single breath, my mind raced through a hundred frightening possibilities. Julia had been diagnosed with some awful disease. Her husband had cancer. While on vacation in some tropical land, a sibling had wound up with one of those creepy parasites people on hospital television shows are always getting.

No. If something that serious were going on, she wouldn’t have told me while I was driving. “Tell me what?”

Julia being Julia, she went at it obliquely. “For years, I’ve kept up. Exercise. Healthy eating. Drinking lots of water. Everything we’re supposed to do.”

I slid her a look. “Healthy? Is that what your potato chips and ham-and-cheese sandwiches are called these days?”

“Very little fried food,” she said, waving me off. “I’ve kept off the weight, more or less. Stayed out of the sun, mostly.”

Her voice had shifted into a serious tone and I suddenly realized this conversation was headed somewhere specific. By now I’d pulled into a gas station parking lot for the first stop of the day. Two cars I recognized were already on the far side of the lot, waiting for us. I shut down the engine and turned to face Julia across the console.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Because something clearly is and I’m not opening that door until you tell me.”

Julia fiddled with her seat belt. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t keep doing this.”