Suddenly, I remembered all the planters with dead flowers at the end of people’s driveways.

“I should be going,” I said quickly.

“Sure. But come back. Anytime. I’d love to talk more about things.”

Things? I hurried to the door. I almost made it outside, when the clerk called after me, “And tell your aunt Nixie said hi.”

I spun back around in the threshold of the door.

“I just love Nora. She’s my hero.”

• • •

I was glad to have a moment to myself on the way back to the library. The sun had come out from behind the clouds and the wind had died again, but my mood had darkened considerably.

I had found of the idea of Uncle Gideon’s crow having a secret life amusing, but when it came to my aunt, the prospect was far less entertaining.

Nora’s my hero?

Nora did not have friends, let alone fans.

That being said, the shop clerk was the least of my concerns. Now that I had some distance, I found myself replaying my conversation with Mary. Again, she said Nora had always been kind to her. What could that possibly mean? And why hadn’t Nora filled us in on her relationship with Mary when the topic had first come up? I was not one to be throwing stones, given the secrets I had kept from my family, but I was starting to suspect Nora had been keeping more than a few of her own. And given the stakes of our current situation, that was, well, it was unacceptable!

Now, if I could only tell her that in such a way that she wouldn’t hang me by my fingernails.

I was so distracted by my thoughts I didn’t notice the man smiling at me from the picnic table in front of the library until I was almost right beside him.

“Brynn Warren?”

I met the man’s smile, taking in his kind eyes and white, bushy mustache. “You must be Christina’s father. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”

“Ben Scott. But please just call me Ben,” he said, getting up to offer me his hand. “I hope you don’t mind me waiting outside. Christina filled me in, and I thought it might be less awkward chatting about my first love if it wasn’t in front of my daughter.” He jerked a thumb back at the library.

“Of course.” I took the spot across from him at the picnic table as he sat back down. “I’m sorry if I brought up an uncomfortable topic for you and your daughter. I had no idea that Constance was . . .” I struggled to find the right word.

“An old flame?”

I nodded.

“She was certainly that. If you’d asked me then, I would’ve sworn we’d have gotten married, but life had other plans.” A touch of sadness came to Ben’s eye. “It was a bit of a shock to hear she was gone.”

“I’m so sorry.” I let a moment pass before asking, “Did you two meet doing community theatre?”