At the fondness in his voice, guilt skittles through me like a tipsy spider.
“You’re lucky. I only met her once, when I was nine, and I thought she was amazing. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a fan of LA and never visited us again. My family is allergic to small towns, so we never visited her either. I kept in contact with her at first, but like for most kids, the writing thing got boring and I eventually stopped.” We tried talking on the phone too, but I was always so busy, and then life moved on.
Recently, I discovered that she had asked my parents several times over the years if I would like to spend the summer in Copper Creek. Without even asking me first, they always told her I wasn’t interested.
“That’s too bad. And you’re right. She was an amazing woman.”
“How about you tell me more about her? All I know now is that she liked vintage pink and mint green, had a thing for historical romances, loved the nineteen fifties, and she was a collector. Oh, and she apparently loved playing dress-up. She has several historic costumes in the attic.”
“Well, I’ll admit the dress-up and the thing for historical romances are news to me. The rest I knew about, but it’s kind of hard to miss the color part.” He gestures at the green flooring and kitchen cabinets, and I laugh.
I remove the artisan bread from the paper bag on the counter and start slicing it. At least that I can do without any major catastrophes.
“I first met Charlotte when she volunteered at the library,” Noah says.
I look up from the wooden cutting board. “She mentioned that when she visited my family. I think that might be why I ended up following in her footsteps years later. She also said that she used to do puppet shows for the kids. ”
He nods. “That’s right. Every Friday afternoon. They were funny as hell. She got right into character.”
“I haven’t found any puppets yet.” Other than the one I made for her. “But I did notice the puppet theatre at the library.”
“She made the puppets but donated them to the library when she could no longer perform.”
“How come you never took over her job of puppeteer? Or maybe you did.” I grin at him, head tilted to the side.
“I’m not an actor, and I’m pretty sure the kids would throw books at me if I tried.”
“I don’t know about that. You might have a hidden talent you’re not aware of.”
I open the cupboard with the plates in it. The door is barely hanging on by a hinge. Whoever buys the house will need to do some serious renovations and home repairs, as well as a complete interior design do-over—starting with removing the wallpaper, retiling the bathrooms and kitchen, and replacing the appliances.
Not that I’ve given it much thought or anything.
“When it comes to acting,” Noah says, “I can guarantee that’s not the case.”
“So you only knew Charlotte for her puppeteering?”
Shaking his head, he leans against the counter. Another item that could stand being replaced with something more modern—like black marble granite. “No, she was the one who taught me how to read. I hated reading mostly because I couldn’t do it. You’re a lot like her.”
“Because I help kids learn to read?”
“Partly that. And partly because you have the same eyes and hair that she had. Or at least the same hair she had when she was younger. I’ve seen photos of her from back when it was black, and her waves were similar to yours.”
This I know to be true because I’ve seen some of her old framed photos around the living room—to fill in my vague recollection of what I remember of her. She looked similar to my mom, before the cancer sucked my mom’s life out of her.
“Did she also have my vampire skin-coloring?”
That makes him laugh. “I wouldn’t say you look like a vampire. And no, she wasn’t pale-skinned. She worked outside on her land, and she rode her horses.”
At the thought of her working on her land like a farmhand, my skin tightens three sizes. She gave up the glamour of Beverly Hills and for what? To be stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue, Chanel Boutique, or Prada?
“What else did she do?” I ask. “Was she married at one point?” My family never mentioned a spouse, but maybe they didn’t know. Maybe he and Charlotte eloped.
“Can’t say it ever came up. She wasn’t married when I got to know her. I have no idea if she was before that.”
I nod, taking in everything he’s telling me, starving for more. “So other than looking after her property and volunteering at the library, what else did she do?”
“She used to teach until she retired. She also gave riding lessons. She was always busy with one activity or another.”
