“Maybe I’ll see you later,” she said tentatively. “Call me, okay?”

“If I can.”

She tossed the phone into her purse.

He’d changed. But hadn’t they all? Mary Beth had changed so much this summer, she wasn’t at all sure where she fit in. But she did her dutiful best to be nice while she muddled through as usual. Her strong sense of family, of propriety, kept her within bounds.

It helped when dealing with Bobby Joe, whose behavior was still erratic. He did try to be affectionate, in a way she perceived as somewhat artificial. Mary Beth scolded herself for feeling guilty for not telling him immediately about the theft. But she did not want his mother or her father or him to find out about the pretty little necklace that Parr had given her.

She turned the key in the ignition and drove away. If it got around that the stolen necklace had been a gift from Parr, that wasn’t the end of the world. She’d live it down somehow.

Parr parked on a side street and got out of his truck. The courthouse square was quiet, with only a few people on the sidewalks and none at all near Robert Joseph Weston and Associates.

But there was a ladder leaning against the office building.

Surely the thief wouldn’t have used it in broad daylight. The thought was ridiculous. As Parr approached the building, an older man in overalls swung a leg over the roof and set his foot down on an upper rung. He went down it with slow confidence. Parr recognized the man on the ladder as Pete Corlear, who’d done the window lettering and roof sign for Bobby Joe.

“Hey there.” Parr stopped.

Corlear, looking sun-dazzled, squinted at him once he’d reached the sidewalk. “Parr. Been a while.”

“Yes, it has.”

“I’d shake hands but there’s fresh paint on mine. Just did some touch-ups. Whew. Hot as blue blazes up on that roof. I can’t wait to get home.”

“Is Bobby here?”

“Don’t think so. But his lady friend—Mary Beth—was in for a while. Go on and knock. She could still be up in that little attic room.”

“Probably not. I just talked to her.”

“Don’t you have a key, Parr?”

“Ah—I forgot to bring it.”

“Well, I’d let you in but I don’t have one myself.”

“Not a problem. I can call Bobby Joe. Good work on the signs, by the way.”

Corlear pulled out a bandanna and mopped his forehead. “Thank you. Feel free to mention my name. One job leads to the next. Bobby Joe said something about you two being more or less in the same business.”

“That’s right. Just not in the same town.”

“Oh well. Have a good one.” Corlear hoisted the lightweight ladder and walked away with it.