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time he’d seen the guy was the night he’d been taken. Danny had been in town briefly, just before shipping out again, and he probably thought Zeke was a bastard who had gone home with some chick without bothering to say good-bye or good luck. They wouldn’t be bridging that gap. Just as well—Zeke wouldn’t want Danny to see him now.
    The phone rang, saving him from making up his mind whether to ask for more. It seemed wrong, so that was best. He went out to the truck and headed to his aunt’s house. She’d insisted on cooking him a casserole to take out to the farm. Hungry as he was these days, it wouldn’t last long enough to spoil. Zeke ate and ate without gaining back any of the weight he’d lost. It appeared they had fucked up his metabolism, too.
    Sid had left the key in the usual place, though she was at work at the insurance office, so he let himself in. He found everything packaged up in the fridge with a little note. Regret panged through him because he couldn’t read it.
    Zeke took out his frustration on her cabinets, repairing them with angry slams of the hammer. He went home heavy-hearted, and after eating, he started on the house overhaul. Before he could put full faith in a fresh start, he had a lot of cleaning to do.

    His references were impeccable. Neva studied the notes she’d taken. HR departments often just confirmed dates of employment, but these were personal references, and the people had nice things to say about Zeke Noble. Most were post-scripted with comments like, poor boy , and such a shame , though. Such tantalizing hints made her hungry for gossip; Julie would surely know. She heard about everything in Harper Creek.
    Neva debated silently before deciding to indulge her curiosity. Julie had just hung up the phone and was penciling in an appointment when she stepped out of her office. “Do you know anything about the Nobles?”
    “I was wondering if you’d ask.” She set down her pencil, her freckled face sober. It was an odd expression on her, like catching a pixie in a pensive moment. “In a nutshell, his mom was quiet-crazy. These days, they’d call it postpartum depression, but she went untreated for years. Eventually she killed herself.”
    “Shit. How old was he?” This didn’t speak to whether he could do the job, of course. It just filled the gaps in her local knowledge.
    “Not very.” Julie shrugged. “Still a kid, anyway. I’m not sure. I could find out, if you want. My cousin—”
    “No,” she said hastily. “Don’t call Emmylou.”
    Emmylou Fish waited tables at Tom’s Diner—they had been tickled with the Suzanne Vega song—and if Julie called, she would repeat the question and the story to everyone in the place. The last thing Neva wanted to do was stir up ancient history. Zeke didn’t need that. But it was typical of the town where something that happened years ago would still be the first thing that came to mind when his name came up. It wasn’t fair, but people had long memories.
    “You thinking about hiring him?”
    “Mm-hm. How did he seem to you?”
    “Polite. Watchful. He paid more attention to the animals than their owners while he waited.”
    Neva nodded. “Good sign in somebody angling to work here.”
    “That’s what I thought. Okay for me to head out now? I’ve got to run some errands and then stop at Pie in the Sky.”
    “Sure.”
    Once Julie had gone, she returned to her office and studied the application. So he was twenty-seven, nearly twenty-eight. Almost four years younger than she was. They might’ve attended school together, if she hadn’t been sent to a private academy an hour away. After elementary school, drivers had ferried her back and forth. Without slumber parties at Julie’s house, she would’ve had no idea what normal life should be like.
    At six, she dialed the number from Zeke’s application, and a woman answered. She didn’t sound young, but it couldn’t be his mother. “Hello?”
    “I’m calling for