They began to shoot for short periods, going with Miss Zula to the university library, to pick up shoes she had left to be reheeled, into the garden while she pulled weeds and set out chipped saucers full of beer for slugs, to her office when she had appointments. The people who came to see her ranged from the university president to the sixteen-year-old son of an old friend who was unsure about whether he wanted to go to college or become an electrician.

Miss Zula’s mornings were spent writing, so Angie used this time to begin her work in the town, where everybody knew the Bragg sisters and had some story about them or the family that—Angie was told with great seriousness—certainly had to be included in the documentary, if that Tony Russo fellow wanted to come by with his cameras. In a matter of days she filled two notebooks with names and anecdotes and newspaper clippings pressed on her by the helpful citizens of Ogilvie. She had a growing collection of bad snapshots of Miss Zula with well-known faces, among them Coretta Scott King, Bobby Kennedy, and a dozen different men and women who had Nobels, Faulkners, and Pulitzers to their names.

It would take another two weeks at least until she started hearing the stories that interested her most, the things people weren’t likely to say to a stranger but might tell a friendly young woman who came around a second or third time to take ice tea on the porch. But it was a start, and a good one.

Angie spent a lot of time organizing her notes and writing lists of things to look up at the town library, which had a better collection of local history books than the university holdings. There were people she needed to seek out, and questions for Miss Zula or, more and more often as the week went on, for Caroline, who was just as helpful as Miss Zula had claimed she would be.

They saw a lot of Caroline. She stayed near when they filmed, suggested people to talk to, and made herself particularly valuable by providing introductions that otherwise would have been impossible. She did all of this quietly and competently, and nothing seemed to ruffle her except being brought into the center of attention.

Angie found herself liking Caroline, which surprised her and unsettled her, too. The only thing more surprising was the fact that Tony didn’t seem to like her very much.

“You know the old saying,” he told Angie one evening after Caroline had spent the afternoon with them. “‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

Rivera reached across the table and smacked him on the back of the head with the flat of her hand.

“Hey!” He scowled and scooted his chair out of her range.