The Last of the Moon Girls

by Barbara Davis

  “So it’s a career thing?”

  “It’s a me thing,” she replied, tossing the empty bottle into a nearby trash can. “Some people are destined for the whole love-and-marriage thing. I’m not one of those people.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I don’t know anything about your life, or how you see your future. I just . . .” He paused, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Why aren’t you one of those people?”

  The question made Lizzy’s mouth go dry. Why were they talking about this? She looked down at her hands, wiping smudges of dust from her palms. “When your last name is Moon, you learn pretty quick not to want what other people have. Not because you don’t want it, but because not everyone gets a choice.” She closed her mouth, shook her head. She’d already said too much. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

  His eyes locked on hers, unblinking as a lazy grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never been able to ignore you, Lizzy. I think you know that.”

  Lizzy took a step back, then another, until she felt the bench at the small of her back. He was too close, the smoky-amber scent of him too distracting. “Please don’t flirt with me, Andrew.”

  “Why?”

  Breathe. Just breathe. She put a hand to her chest, trying to quell the bloom of warmth beneath her ribs. “Because I might forget that I don’t want to be flirted with, and I don’t want to forget it. I’m not looking for a summer romance.”

  His grin slipped, his voice suddenly thick. “Neither am I.”

  She flinched when he touched her face, a single knuckle tracing the curve of her cheek. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, hard to pull her gaze from his. “I mean it, Andrew. This isn’t me being coy. What I said before, about not letting myself want what other people have—it’s real. I’m not like most women. I’m not chasing happily-ever-after. I’m . . . different.”

  Andrew dropped his hand to his side, but his eyes remained locked with hers. “You think I don’t know that? That you’re . . . different? I’ve lived next to you my whole life. How could I not know?”

  “But you don’t, Andrew. Not really. If you did—”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, with a strange intensity. “I do know. I’ve always known. The first time I saw you, the first instant . . . I knew you weren’t like anyone else.”

  Something about the way he’d paused for just a beat, the way he’d held her gaze when he said it, as if confirming something they both already knew, set off alarm bells in her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just meant . . .”

  “I know, Lizzy.” He relaxed visibly as the words left his mouth, as if he’d been holding them in for a long time, and was relieved to finally say them aloud. “I’ve always known. About you. About all the Moons. I know.”

  Lizzy froze. It was in his face, his eyes, his words. He did know. Somehow. All of it. Who she was. What she was. Who and what they all were. But how? Had Althea let something slip? Had Evvie?

  “How?” she whispered. “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just . . . do.”

  “For how long?”

  “Honestly? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know. It was just a fact, like the sun coming up in the morning. There’s a light inside you, Lizzy. Althea had it too. And your mother. It’s what makes you a Moon—that light.”

  Lizzy flashed him a look, stunned that they were talking about this at all. “You say it like it’s a good thing, like I’ve been blessed or something. All I ever wanted was to be like other people, to have an ordinary life. Instead . . .”

  Andrew cut her off with a shake of his head. “You’ll never be like other people, Lizzy. Which is why you had me wrapped around your finger when I was eighteen.” He took a step forward, cutting the distance between them in half. “And why you still have me wrapped around your finger.”

  Lizzy clenched her hands into fists to keep them from trembling. He was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the subtle cleft in his chin, the glint of stubble along his jawline. How was this happening? She’d never planned for something like this—or for someone like Andrew. He knew. He knew, and he was going to kiss her anyway.

  And she was going to let him—even if it cost her everything.

  The ground fell away as his arms came around her, cinching tightly about her waist. She swayed against him, hands pressed to his chest, and briefly met his gaze. His lips were soft as they met hers, tentative, as if seeking permission. She gave it willingly, melting into him as the kiss sparked and caught fire. The consummation was both new and terrifying.

  Stop. Stop this while you still can.

  Lizzy heard the warnings but shoved them down. She needed this. Needed him. Now, for just this moment, she needed to be who he thought she was—the girl with the light inside her.

  Except she wasn’t that girl, and it wasn’t fair to let him think she was.

  She pulled out of his arms and dragged in a breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

  Andrew took a step back, eyes clouded with confusion.

  Lizzy pressed a hand to her lips, mortified. How could she have been so stupid? “I’m so sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I mean, I did obviously, but then I didn’t. My life’s just so upside-down right now. I don’t need any more complications.”

  “No complications,” he said, nodding stiffly. “Got it.”

  His tone stung, but he had every right to be annoyed. She’d given him the green light, then slammed on the brakes. “You think you know all about me, but you don’t. Before, when I said I wasn’t chasing happily-ever-after, I was actually talking about all of us—all the Moons. We don’t get . . . attached. We have one job, to produce a daughter to carry on our legacy. Romance doesn’t enter into it.”

  “So . . . no husband.”

  She swallowed hard, not sure she was ready to have this conversation, but he was waiting for an answer. “It’s . . . less messy that way,” she said thickly. “For everyone.” She looked down at her hands, her shoes, anywhere but at Andrew. “You were right, we are different. But not in a good way. People call us wicked. They blame us for everything, and treat us like lepers. Sooner or later, that rubs off on the people we love—like a stain.” She paused, shrugging. “It’s only a matter of time until everything’s poisoned.”

  “So why bother?”

  Lizzy nodded. “Why bother.”

  Andrew blew out a long breath. “And you’re okay with that? Raising a daughter on your own someday, in order to fulfill some ancient custom?”

  “I’m not, in fact. Which is why the legacy will end with me.”

  The words seemed to hum in the charged air. “You’re saying . . .”

  “I’m saying I’m the last Moon girl.”

  “So no husband and no kids. Sounds pretty final.”

  “It’s meant to.”

  “It also sounds lonely.”

  Lizzy shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s the only fair thing to do. Women worry about passing on all sorts of things to their daughters—bad skin, wide hips, a latent crippling illness. I don’t worry about those things. I worry about bringing a little girl into the world who has to hide who she is, who’s afraid to make friends and doesn’t fit in anywhere. I lived that life growing up. I won’t do it to a daughter of mine.”

  “At the risk of sounding presumptuous, it is possible to marry and skip the kids. Lots of couples do.”

  “Yes they do, but it’s not just about kids. It’s all of it. Marriage is hard enough when both people are normal. But I’m not normal. My family’s legacy isn’t a liability I’m willing to foist on either a husband or a child. That’s what I meant by complications. No . . . attachments.”

  Andrew arched a brow. “Luc wasn’t a complication?”

  Lizzy sighed, knowing just how bizarre all this must sound to someone like Andrew, who’d grown up in a family that always colored inside the lines. “Luc wasn’t anything. He didn’t have expectations
about us, and neither did I. That’s why it was safe. He didn’t want the white picket fence and the minivan. But you’re not like Luc. You want something I can’t give. And I want something I can’t have.”

  Andrew’s face softened, and a slow smile appeared. “All I heard you say just then was that you want me. I did just hear that, right?”

  “I was speaking figuratively.”

  “Were you?”

  Lizzy stared at him without blinking. To falter now would be unfair. “Yes.”

  He touched her cheek, brushing it lightly before dropping his hand. “Just as well. This isn’t exactly how I imagined our first romantic encounter—in a barn.”

  Lizzy felt her cheeks go pink. “You imagined a romantic encounter with me?”

  “I was eighteen years old. And male. Of course I imagined it. I still imagine it. But not here. And not if it isn’t what you want. But don’t count me out. I waited twenty years for that kiss. I’ll wait another twenty if that’s what it takes.”

  He turned then and headed for the door. Lizzy watched him go, her response stuck in her throat. Had he not heard a word she just said?

  THIRTY-ONE

  August 17

  Lizzy woke with a nagging headache and a knot in the pit of her stomach. Andrew had kissed her last night. And for one disastrous, weak-kneed moment, she had kissed him back. Until she remembered what was at stake. Her heart. Maybe his too. At least she’d put a stop to things before they went too far.

  It would be weird between them now, because that’s what happened when you kissed someone you shouldn’t. Things got weird. And they stayed weird. Until you started inventing reasons to avoid each other.

  But that wasn’t what she wanted. Andrew was the truest friend she’d ever had—the kind who knew all your secrets and stuck by you anyway—and for whatever time she had left in Salem Creek, she wanted him to remain a friend. They’d go their separate ways soon enough. The farm would sell, and that would be that. She’d have nothing tying her here, no reason to ever return.

  The thought evoked a hollowed-out sensation she preferred not to name. Labeling a thing made it real.

  “That you, little girl?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” Lizzy answered, rounding the corner to find Evvie seated at the kitchen table. “Have you seen Rhanna? I wanted to ask her about some of the stuff in the attic.”

  “Blew through here a little bit ago,” Evvie mumbled from behind her paper. “Made a pot of that devil’s brew y’all drink, then headed out to the shop. She’s been working her backside off out there for days.”

  Lizzy filled a mug with coffee and joined Evvie at the table. “She’s painting again, did she tell you?”

  Evvie glanced up, her face stony. “There’s another article.”

  Lizzy sighed into her mug. “Of course there is. What does it say?”

  Evvie’s brow creased as she scanned the article. “Let’s see. Here it is. A source familiar with the investigation told the Chronicle that lab results had proved inconclusive. Kerosene has been confirmed as the accelerant, but no fingerprints were found.”

  “Which means no suspects.”

  “There’s more.”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Do I want to know?”

  “They’ve got a quote here from the organist at First Congregational—Miriam Summers. She says she’s not surprised bad things are happening at Moon Girl Farm since it’s bound to be haunted by the spirits of those poor dead girls. Actually used the word haunted. Can you imagine a newspaper printing nonsense like that?”

  Sadly, Lizzy could imagine it. As fate would have it, Chief Summers’s wife had been in the coffee shop the day of Rhanna’s unfortunate outburst, and had heard it all firsthand. She’d been only too happy to fan the town’s outrage back then, and it seemed time had done nothing to soften her opinion. Except this time she was the one causing the outrage, and not Rhanna.

  “I’ve been thinking, Evvie . . .”

  Evvie’s eyes narrowed. “Thinking what?”

  “That maybe I’m in over my head. I mean, who am I kidding, thinking I can do what the police couldn’t do eight years ago? Maybe it’s time to put my energy into getting this place on the market and forget the sleuthing. All I’m doing is pissing people off.”

  “You scared?”

  Lizzy stiffened. She wasn’t scared. But things were starting to get messy, and on more fronts than she’d counted on. “I’m not scared. It’s just . . .”

  Evvie folded her paper and tossed it to the end of the table. “There’s no shame in being scared, little girl. Not with what’s been going on around here. But if you’re thinking of throwing in the towel because people are in a snit, that’s a whole nother kettle of crawdads.”

  Lizzy would have smiled at Evvie’s colorful turn of phrase if she weren’t so distracted. “I’m not scared, Evvie. I’m just wondering what I’m really accomplishing. All I’ve managed to do so far is remind everyone why they don’t like us. But as far as the actual case goes, what do I know now that I didn’t know when I got here? That Heather Gilman was a wild child who broke curfew and drank with boys—like half the girls in Salem Creek. That she dumped her BFFs with no explanation, and one of her old friends thinks she might have been afraid to go home.”

  “It’s more than the police managed to find out.”

  “Maybe, but what does it prove? Mrs. Gilman said herself that she doesn’t believe her husband was capable of hurting their daughters. And let’s not forget that he has an ironclad alibi for the night they went missing. No wonder the police won’t reopen the case. If Fred Gilman is really in the clear, there’s nowhere else to look.”

  “So that’s it? You’re going to quit? Just go back to New York?”

  Lizzy’s face softened. She reached across the table and laid a hand over Evvie’s. “This was never supposed to be permanent, Evvie. You know that. At some point, I’m going to have to throw in the towel and go home.”

  Evvie poked out her lower lip. “This is home.”

  “It was—once upon a time. It’s where I grew up. But sometimes growing up means growing out of things.”

  “You can’t grow out of your home, Lizzy. Home is in your blood. It’s not just where you live, it’s who you are.”

  “New York is who I am now, Evvie.”

  There was a beat of hesitation before Evvie spoke again, as if she were weighing her next words. “What about Andrew?”

  Lizzy withdrew her hand and picked up her mug, carefully avoiding Evvie’s gaze. There was no way she could know about last night. And what if she did? It was a kiss. One innocent, ill-advised kiss. “What does Andrew have to do with anything?”

  Evvie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I wonder.”

  A ping from Lizzy’s cell phone spared her from having to respond. She tapped the message open, already knowing it would be Luc.

  Call me, Lizzy. I mean it.

  Evvie’s eyes narrowed. “Something wrong?”

  “It’s just work. I need to make a call.”

  She waited until she was upstairs to dial Luc’s cell. She had nothing new to report, no return date she could give, but his message was clear enough. He’d run out of patience.

  Luc didn’t bother with hello when he answered. “Do they not have cell phone towers in New Hampshire?”

  Lizzy suppressed a sigh. “Hello, Luc.”

  “I’ve been leaving messages for over a week. Were you ever going to call?”

  “I’m calling now.”

  “To say you’re coming back?”

  “No. But I am meeting with the Realtor tomorrow. Then it looks like I’ll be heading to the bank to arrange for a loan so I can swing the repairs and property taxes until we find a buyer. It shouldn’t take long to hire the contractors once I have the funds. Andrew can give me some recommendations on who to use, and keep an eye on the workmen.”

  Luc huffed into the phone. “How ’bout I just write you a check for the taxes, and you leave today?”

&n
bsp; “I’m not letting my boss pay the taxes on my grandmother’s farm.”

  “It’s your farm now, Lizzy. And we both know I’m more than just your boss. Stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

  Lizzy counted to ten, annoyed by his presumption. “I’m not being stubborn, Luc. It’s a kind offer, really, but this is my problem.”

  “I’m curious,” he said coolly. “You dragging your feet wouldn’t have anything to do with Andrew, would it? It feels like maybe your attention’s being . . . diverted. Please tell me you’re not thinking of throwing away your career to chase some silly happily-ever-after with the boy next door.”

  Lizzy struggled to control her temper. He was pushing her buttons, bullying her because she wasn’t jumping to attention every time he called. As if her salary somehow entitled him to a say in her personal life. “We agreed when we stopped seeing each other that we’d keep it professional, Luc. My happily-ever-after is none of your business.”

  “We didn’t stop seeing each other. You stopped seeing me. But if you want to keep things strictly professional, I can do that too. I have a company to run, Ms. Moon. When I gave you that promotion, I expected to get my money’s worth. And instead of gratitude, I get the runaround.”

  Gratitude?

  Lizzy sat with the word a moment, stung by the transactional sentiment behind it, and by his condescending use of her last name. “You didn’t give me anything, Luc,” she said finally. “I earned that promotion, and you know it. Not because I was your girlfriend for six months, but because I worked my tail off. And because I’m good at what I do. According to HR, I have six weeks of vacation saved, plus ten days of sick leave. Which means I still have three-plus weeks left. Pay me for them. Don’t pay me for them. However you want to handle it. But I can’t leave here right now.”

  She didn’t wait for a response before ending the call. Her hands shook as she stared at the blank screen. Had she just quit her job? Before she could examine the question further, the phone went off again. She expected to see Luc’s number pop up, but the call was local.

  “Hey, it’s Chuck Bundy.” His tone was overly bright, and vaguely annoying. “I know we’re scheduled for tomorrow, but I’m wondering if we should maybe slow things down a little. I’ve been crunching the numbers, looking at what else is on the market, and my gut’s telling me we should wait.”