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“Bye-bye now.”

The line clicked, going dead, and I hung up the phone, plastering a look of calm on my face before I went back to the sink.

“Who was that?” Birdie spoke the words around a mouthful of bagel.

“Just Mason checking to see if I’m coming out today.”

She raised a skeptical brow in my direction as she took another bite. I’d managed to keep her from finding out about my episodes, buteventually, she was going to put it together. I’d kept the secret not because I didn’t trust her. It was because the moment I told her I was sick, things would change. For her and for me. The further I drifted, the more alone she would be.

She changed the subject. “Ida’s goin’ to be the death of me with this Midsummer Faire business. You sure you’re up for it?”

I nodded. It wasn’t the first time Birdie and I had run the show together. The flower farm always donated the excess late spring harvest to decorate at the event, and this year, Ida was the chair. She had Melody working around the clock on the plans.

“First one without Gran,” I thought aloud.

A smile stretched up one side of Birdie’s face. “Yeah, I was thinkin’ that this mornin’.”

My thoughts pulled back to that envelope and the photograph that was tucked inside. I’d considered telling Birdie about it last night as we sat at that same table with Ida’s casserole between us. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it, but it was still eating at me, poking at the edges of my mind.

“Do you know if Gran knew Nathaniel Rutherford?” The question formed on my lips before I’d even really thought about it.

Something stiffened in Birdie’s posture, just slightly. Almost too subtle to notice. “What?”

“Nathaniel Rutherford. The minister over at the church who—”

“I know who he is, June.” Was there an edge to her voice? I couldn’t quite tell. “But I was just a little thing when that happened.”

“Right. But Gran was older. She might have actually known him.”

“She didn’t exactly mix with the church folk. You know that.”

“But did she ever talk about it?” I tried again.

“No one really liked to talk about it. Not then and not now.”

“I just mean, I grew up hearing that story and seeing his picture in the cafe, but I don’t remember Gran ever mentioning it. It’s strange.”

Birdie frowned. “Not all that strange, if you think about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, that was a difficult time for this town. A lot of suspicion, alot of accusations thrown around. Tragedy will do that, I guess.” She got to her feet, a little clumsily. “Should probably get on the road.”

I watched her carefully as she dried her hands on the towel hanging from the oven. The drive to Charlotte was only a couple of hours, and she’d already missed the traffic. Somehow, I’d hit a nerve.

“You taking off already?” I asked.

“Might as well. Can you stop in at the shop on your way to the farm and check on Melody? She’s got a big order today.”

“Sure.” The answer sounded like a question. I was still trying to read that look on her face. I had the distinct feeling the question had upset her, though I couldn’t think why.

When she finally turned to face me, she looked a little like herself again. She crossed the kitchen in three steps, planting a firm kiss on my cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

I forced a smile, propping myself up against the wall as she disappeared up the hallway. When I heard the keys jingle in her hand, I called over my shoulder, “Drive safe!”

“Yes, Mother!” The door closed, and a few seconds later, Birdie’s car was backing down the driveway.

It wasn’t like her to dance around things. She’d always been the one who got to the point and didn’t sugarcoat the truth. She was the first to be honest with me about my mother, about the Farrow curse and the grim future that was coming for me. She’d never tried to shield me from any of it, like Gran had. But bringing up Nathaniel Rutherford had rattled her. Why?