“You do what you have to do. I take care you get any messages. Sí?”

“Yes. Yes, and thank you, Risa. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” After a few more words, Josie headed up to her own apartment. She knew what she had to do. Although she had rarely given serious consideration to contacting anyone from her past, she thought of the one person she could go to: Naomi Van Ripper, reference librarian at the town library. Miss Van Ripper (she had insisted on Miss rather than Ms. even though she had certainly grown up during the consciousness-raising sixties) had acquired all of the official information about the town-newspapers, maps, public service flyers from various civic organizations-and she kept her ear to the ground about all else. And like a good librarian, Miss Van Ripper loved sharing her information. Josie grabbed the portable phone while the door to her apartment was swinging shut behind her.

Now what was the information number she was always seeing on TV? After five wrong tries, she got through and asked for the number of her hometown library. She wrote down what she was told and then punched in a new set of digits. “Hello, I’m… calling to speak with Miss Van Ripper.” Josie held her breath, hoping no one would ask her name and thinking furiously about a good alias if someone did. “Oh, Dr. Van Ripper. I didn’t know… Really? That’s wonderful. I knew her… well, I guess it was years and years ago. Oh, old friends,” Josie lied. Inspired, she continued. “I was supposed to call her this week-not at the library but at home, and I seem to have lost the number. Oh… yes, exactly, that’s what I mean… call her at the place she’s staying… at the shore. Yes. Right near here, in fact.” Josie grabbed for a pen and a magazine and wrote furiously on the cover. “That’s perfect. Yes. Thank you. I appreciate it.” Resisting the urge to ask how things were in her hometown, Josie hung up.

Just in time. Tyler walked in the door.

“Hi, Mom. When’s dinner?”

“Whenever you get it on the table.”

“I thought I was going to be cooking on Monday and Wednesday nights.” When Tyler turned thirteen, Josie had insisted that he share in the kitchen chores. He had turned out to be a better cook than she was. Tyler leaned across the counter that divided the kitchen space from the rest of the room and peered at the Sierra Club calendar hanging on the wall. “Yeah. You wrote it down. Right here. Tonight is your night!”

“Then how about pizza?” She was anxious to call the number she had just been given. If she could talk her son into walking around the corner to the Italian takeout that had popped up in the first floor of an old Victorian mansion that summer, she would have the time.

“I had pizza for lunch. But…” He perked up. “How about a large calzone?”

To Josie calzone was just rearranged pizza, but as long as he was happy with that solution… “Sounds good to me. Why don’t you call and place the order?”

“Okay. Diet Coke?”

“Sure. And make sure you get a drink for yourself. I meant to go to the grocery store today, but…”

“I’ll pick up a six-pack there-that way is the cheapest,” Tyler offered.

“Great.”

“And I can go down and place the order, then wait there until it’s ready. That way it won’t have to wait around on the counter and get cold or anything.”

Josie suddenly remembered that the cutest girl on the island was working at the pizza place this summer. “My wallet is in-”

“I’ll take care of it. I still have some money from my allowance. You can pay me back.”

“Fantastic.”

Tyler dashed out the door and bounded down the stairs. Josie waited until the front door slammed behind him before dialing the phone. She was making a local call. It turned out that Dr. Van Ripper was on vacation-less than ten miles north of where Josie was standing right now.

The phone was answered before Josie had decided what to say.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss… I mean Dr. Van Ripper? This is Josie Pigeon.” The words were out of her mouth before she had considered what announcing her presence might mean.

Happily, the name seemed to mean nothing to the librarian. “Yes?”

“I… You… I need to ask you some questions,” Josie blurted out.

“Miss whatever, why are you calling me? I am no longer a reference librarian. And I am on vacation. Why do you imagine I would want to answer any questions you might ask- even if I could?”

“I… It’s about Courtney Castle.” It was the only answer Josie could come up with-and it seemed to work. At least the phone wasn’t slammed down.

“Courtney Castle? What about her?”

“She’s… Well, I need to ask some questions about her. I’m… doing research.”

“Are you a reporter? Why didn’t you say that up front? Why would you expect me to answer your questions unless you tell me why you’re asking them?”

“Well, I-”

“Are you calling from nearby? From the shore?”

“Yes, I-”

“From the island where Courtney is taping her television show, right?”

“Yes, exactly.” Josie was relieved to be telling the truth at last.

None of this seemed apparent to Dr. Van Ripper. “What do you need? Background information for an article you’re doing?”

“Background information would be a good place to start,” Josie admitted, glancing at the large grandfather clock that held the place of honor in the middle of the room. She sure hoped Tyler took his time getting dinner. She had just remembered how Naomi Van Ripper loved to talk.

“I’ve known Courtney since she was a small child. She was beautiful even then. I remember how her blond hair would glimmer in the light coming through the library windows as she studied at the table in the reference room on Saturday mornings.”

Dr. Van Ripper must have been asked this many times before because Josie recognized a prepared speech when she heard one. And so far, while the image produced might be a publicist’s dream, it was also a lie. Courtney had not been one to spend her weekends in the library. In fact, now that Josie thought about it, she remembered the rumors about how Courtney had bragged about getting the librarians to do her research so that she didn’t have to spend long hours in the library. And her hair had been brown and stringy, not something that had shimmered ethereally in the sunlight. Not that there had been any sunlight. The Carnegie Foundation, which had generously donated the library to the town, had been fond of dark stained-glass windows through which natural light could not penetrate. And the fluorescent bulbs that hung from the reference room’s ceiling turned everything beneath them a sallow hue. But the tale of Courtney Castle’s early life was continuing.

“She was a unique child. Popular with adults as well as her peers. A wonderful student, of course. Although she didn’t take shop or anything like that when she attended our excellent public schools.” An artificial chuckle punctuated this statement. “I’m not surprised that she ended up on television. With her looks and brains, she is a natural. But I have to admit that her interests in the building trade must have developed after she left town.”

“When was that?” Josie leapt in with a question.

“When was what?”

“When did Courtney leave town?”

“Why, just like most young people, she left when she went to college. Not that she just vanished from the scene, mind you. With all her interests, she was a busy young woman, of course. I seem to remember that she did a student service project somewhere in Africa after her freshman year of college. And she took classes at Harvard between her sophomore and junior years. But she is close to her family. She always visits her parents at Christmastime. And frequently joins them for their annual jaunt to the Caribbean in the spring.”

Josie could just imagine her own mother drooling over this dutiful daughter and comparing Courtney with the unwed mother slash carpenter she herself had brought into the world. “And did you always see her during these visits home?”