She waited a few beats before turning. Sure enough, he was retreating down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.

Soon she was settling in at the bar that, like so much else in this town, was unnervingly familiar. Not that she’d spent much time here. It was a true bar. They didn’t really serve food beyond frozen pizzas they heated in a toaster oven. But she and Sawyer used to come to trivia night, which had been open to all ages.

She glanced around. As in the Pink Room of Pain, nothing had changed. Dartboards still hung on wood-paneled walls. Neon signs advertised various kinds of beer. The old jukebox sat in the far corner.

Thankfully, she didn’t recognize any of the patrons. She was not in the mood. She did not need someone freaking out over her the way Pearl had.

“Ms. Abbott. Long time no see. What’ll it be?”

“Hi, Law.” She did know Ben Lawson, but he didn’t freak out over her appearance. From him, “Long time no see” could mean ten years, or it could mean ten days. That was Law for you. He had always been chill. “Got a good IPA?”

“Sure do. This one’s local.” He pulled the pint, set it in front of her, and rested his elbows on the bar and his chin on his palms. Maybe she’d spoken too soon. Was he cueing up a freak-out? Or at least a chilled-out Ben Lawson version of a freak-out?

No. He just looked at her, his expression inscrutable.

“Eve Abbott?! Is that you?” The screech from her left was loud enough that she physically jumped. “Oh. My. God. Eve! I heard you were back in town!”

Eve turned to face her accuser and was pleasantly surprised. “Maya?”

Eve and Maya had been friendly if not explicitly friends back in the day—Maya was a little younger than Eve, and Eve had been pretty wrapped up in Sawyer. As a young teenager, Maya used to direct plays out on the village green. Eve had once let herself be cast as Puritan Number Four in a production of The Crucible that had gone over like a lead balloon, The Crucible being not quite the theatrical experience that tourists who were otherwise in town for raspberry picking, mermaid tail fittings, and beach frolicking were looking for.

As Maya moved over several stools to sit next to Eve, Law grabbed her wineglass from where she’d been sitting and set it in front of her. Without speaking, he topped it off. Maya didn’t seem to notice. “Eve. We were all so gutted by Lucille’s passing. Everyone loved Lucille so much.” Maya had a melodramatic way of speaking—probably an occupational hazard, if she was still in the theater business. But the sentiment seemed genuine.

Maya laid a hand on Eve’s arm. Unlike with Jason Sims, Eve allowed it. Something in her chest hitched.