“Dad said Frank was maybe twenty years older than his little wife. His brother was closer to her age. Dad said she was usually the one who helped Tony and him unload.”

“What were they like?” Ketch seemed fascinated with the old story.

“They never had much to do with the folks around here. Artist types, you know. When Frank died, some said he hung around to haunt the place, but I think it was just his younger brother dropping by now and then to check on his sister-in-law.”

Ketch raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t believe in ghosts, Professor?”

“I think people make up things, especially if the story around the place is sad. Eva had her only child several months after her husband died. Some said the birthing almost killed her.”

“Tell me more.” Ketch’s request seemed to whisper off the walls.

Ben shrugged with little interest, but he continued. “There’s no record of when artists started settling here, but by the roaring twenties this little settlement was full of them. Some say the first art-loving couples found this place after the First World War, then more foreigners, mostly friends of the artists already here, settled in after the Second World War.

“They must have had it bad during the war. I heard someone say Frank Raine had been an established sculptor in England and lost everything, but they had enough money to buy Primrose Hill and make a new life. After a while, I heard his art was selling in New York.

“Eva buried her husband and raised her only child, Gabriella. Some say the kid was wild and crazy. Ran off with some guy while she was still in high school. Years later, Gabriella came home to deliver a baby and then disappeared again, leaving the baby with Eva. Gabriella’s daughter, Anna, lived with Eva until she was grown. Folks said Anna was wilder than her mother. And, like her mother, Anna dumped her kid, Tuesday, on Eva, who was in her eighties by then.”

Ben stopped.

Ketch leaned forward. “Tell me the rest.”

Though Ben didn’t like talking about people, he guessed this was more of the town’s history than gossip. “Eva died when Tuesday was about fourteen. Four generations of women have lived at Primrose Hill. Tuesday Raine is the last.”

“What about Frank’s brother, Tony? Did he ever live there?”

“I heard he’d come in the winters to stay a while. The house grew every time he dropped by.”

Ketch stood and paced. “If Tuesday was only fourteen when the old lady died, didn’t the county take over her care?”