Page 51 of Memories of the Lost

The quilt shop was in a quaint building with apartments over the shop and a display of fabric snippets in the window. Only snippets, Tillie knew, because sunlight would fade bolts of cloth. They walked to the door, but a sign read CLOSED. It wouldn’t open for another hour. “Damn,” she said mildly, then looked down the street for other ideas. The natural-foods store was around the corner. “I have an idea.”

Mother Earth Foods was open and thriving, judging by the number of people going in and out. It had originally occupied a former small-town grocery store, the old-fashioned kind with wooden floors and a butcher counter in back. They’d expanded since the last time she was there, taking over a shop next door to add a bigger produce section. She stood just inside for a moment, smelling the air, but it no longer carried the pungent quotient of nutritional yeast and patchouli and freshly baked bread. The recognition made her a little sad.

A young woman behind the florist counter smiled. “Hi. Can I help you find something?”

It seemed foolish to ask now that she realized it was no longer a funky little hole in the wall, but what did she have to lose? “Yeah,” Tillie said. “I’m hoping to talk to the original owner, May Paulson?”

“Oh, sure. I just saw her.” She straightened from her task and peered down an aisle. “Yep, there she is. By the canned goods, end of aisle seven.”

“Thanks.”

They headed in her direction. She looked up as they approached, her gray hair woven into a braid that fell down her back. Her sinewy arms showed beneath a Life Is Good T-shirt featuring a tent and a dog. “Good morning,” the woman said as they approached. “Tillie, isn’t it?”

“Wow, good memory.”

“How are you, dear? I was sorry to hear about your mama’s passing.”

“Thank you. I’m okay. I actually wondered if you had a minute to talk to me about her, about when she came to town.”

She glanced at her watch. “A little time.”

“Do you remember when she first came here?”

“I do. She lived right across the street with you for the first year. She was looking for a farm, but it needed to be just right.”

“I didn’t know that we ever lived in town.”

“You were the cutest little girl, all hair and eyes.” She tugged off her gloves.

“Thanks. Where did she come from? Do you remember?”

Her gaze sharpened. “Do you not have any family?”

“Not that I know of.”

“I’m sorry. That must be hard.” She straightened a can of pears so the label faced outward. “I always thought she was from New England somewhere. I can’t remember why I thought that. Maybe an accent or something? It’s been a long time.”

“It has. Not California?”

She frowned. “No, I’d remember California. It was one of my dream places.”

“Did she work around here anywhere?”

“No, she seemed to come from some money. Or she had enough that she didn’t work.”

Tillie smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Sure, honey. Anytime.”

Jon lifted a hand, and they fell in step, heading out to the street. The sun was out in a brilliant blue sky, and it was hard to feel dejected in the face of such relentless spring cheer. “New England,” she said. “First I’ve heard of that, too.”

“The mystery deepens. Did you run a Google search on her name?”

Tillie looked at him. Blinked. “No. It never occurred to me.”

“Let’s get some coffee and do that.”

But a woman was at the door of the quilt shop. “First, Calla.”