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you were gone, did your aunt tell you much about Carrefour?”
    I shake my head.
    The women exchange looks. “I see,” Peregrine’s mother says. “So she hasn’t explained any of the . . . customs of the town or anything?”
    “Customs?” I ask blankly.
    “Oh, Annabelle, stop putting Eveny on the spot,” Chloe’s mother says quickly. She turns to me. “I think what Annabelle is wondering is whether you’d heard of the Mardi Gras Ball. It’s coming up in about a month you know.”
    “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell. My aunt and I didn’t spend a lot of time talking about this place. I think it reminded her of my mom.”
    “Your aunt never was a big fan of Carrefour,” Chloe’s mother says with a sigh. “But we’ll change that yet, right Eveny?” She claps her hands in a way that reminds me of a preschool teacher trying to coax a child into singing along.
    “Sure,” I say. I glance down at my computer. “Listen, while I have you here, do you know the website for the local paper?”
    “The local paper?” Peregrine’s mother asks.
    “Yeah. I was trying to read more about what happened to Glory Jones.”
    “Why on earth would you want to do that?” she asks.
    “Well, I met her the night she died, actually.”
    Chloe’s mother goes suddenly pale, and Peregrine’s mother freezes. “Did you?”
    “She just didn’t seem suicidal to me,” I continue. “I thought maybe if I read about what happened, it might make more sense. But I can’t seem to find anything about it on the internet.”
    Peregrine’s mother takes a second to recover before speaking. “Of course not. We’re not on the internet, dear.”
    “What’s not on the internet? The whole town?” When she nods, I add, “But that doesn’t make any sense.”
    “We like our seclusion from the world, Eveny,” Chloe’s mother says. “It’s one of the wonderful things about living in Carrefour. We don’t air our dirty laundry. We don’t get unwanted visitors. Everyone knows everyone, and nothing bad ever happens.”
    I shake my head in disbelief. “What about Glory dying? What about my mother dying?”
    “Those were both very unfortunate incidents,” Peregrine’s mother says, looking out the window.
    “Try your cake, sugar,” Chloe’s mother urges.
    I clear my throat and take a bite, even though I’m not hungry. “Delicious,” I say politely. And actually, it is—it tastes a bit like the lemon cake they served in the Polish deli below our apartment, but with a spicy, herbal twist.
    “Really, Eveny, there’s no reason to go looking into poor Glory’s death,” Peregrine’s mother says after I’ve taken a second bite. “It’s a tragedy, but it’s all very straightforward.”
    But the more they brush off my questions, the more I’m convinced they’re hiding something. “My friend Drew said there was a rumor about something satanic going on.”
    Both women laugh. “Satanic?” Peregrine’s mother asks. “That’s a new one.”
    “In any case, enough talk about death!” Chloe’s mother says brightly. “Let’s talk about you! I understand you’re interested in botany?”
    “Yeah.” I nod. “I always have been. I was in charge of our community garden back in Brooklyn, and I worked for about a year and a half for a wedding florist.”
    “Your mother would have been so proud,” Chloe’s mother says. “She was very passionate about flowers and herbs.” She glances at Peregrine’s mother and adds, “We all are. Annabelle, me, our daughters . . . I think you’ll find that this is a wonderful place to live if you’re interested in gardening.”
    “Great,” I say, forcing a smile. I can’t exactly imagine their supermodel daughters in muddy jeans and canvas gloves, digging in the dirt. “Must be nice to have good weather year-round.”
    The mothers eat their cake and drink their coffee quickly as they chatter about all the social gatherings I can get involved with now that I’m back. Apparently, I