Gwen sat forward slightly. “Do you know if Valerie was involved with anyone the summer before she went away? Did she have a boyfriend?”
Joan chuckled frostily. “All the boys liked Valerie. The minute she walked into a room, the rest of us became invisible.”
The edge of jealousy was obvious, and Gwen glanced at Peter.
Joan sat forward, seeming eager to share at least one small morsel of gossip. She spoke in a hushed voice. “But shewasinvolved with someone the summer before she left. We didn’t see much of her.”
“Do you know who it was?” Gwen asked with sudden heightened interest.
“No. I didn’t know his name. But we all guessed it was a seasonal farmworker. Her father would have disapproved of a boy like that, which is probably why she kept it secret from everyone, even her friends. Knowing her father, he would have driven the boy out of town at gunpoint, or at least in handcuffs, in a manner of speaking.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Peter replied, glancing briefly at Gwen.
“You’re sure you never met this boy or heard his name?” she asked. “Did any of your other friends know?”
Joan shook her head. “I’ll be honest. We were all cross with her that summer. It felt like we didn’t matter to her anymore, that she didn’t care about us, so we stopped being friends.”
“Ah,” Gwen replied. “I didn’t know that. I always thought everyone loved Valerie. I’m glad you’re telling me this.”
Joan fiddled with her earring. “Well, it didn’t seem right to say bad things about her when she’d become so famous. That’s not what people want to hear.”
Peter reached for a rolled asparagus sandwich. “Did she try to resolve things with you before she left?”
“No. She left without saying goodbye, and I didn’t hear from her again until many years later. I think she was just lonely in that flashyHollywood life, and she was longing for home and the people who knew the real Valerie. Not Scarlett, the movie star.”
“But no mention of a boyfriend?” Peter asked again. “Or a heartbreak before she left Nova Scotia?”
“No. She just wanted to hear about her old friends, what we’d been up to. I told her I was happily married to a wonderful man,” Joan said proudly.
“I’m sure she was happy for you,” Gwen replied.
An awkward silence ensued, and Joan offered a slice of pie and made a pot of tea. They spent the rest of the visit discussing the upcoming Apple Blossom Festival, which Peter knew nothing about. Gwen promised to fill him in on what to expect in the coming days—concerts, a parade, fireworks.
A short while later, they said goodbye to Joan, got into the car, and drove off.
“That was illuminating,” Gwen said. “You weren’t tempted to show her the newspaper clipping?”
“I was afraid to,” Peter replied. “I had a feeling that the minute we left, she’d call everyone she knew, and my book would no longer be relevant. My publisher wouldn’t be pleased.”
Gwen glanced out the window and sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Peter asked. “You don’t sound happy.”
“I don’t know. This just feels wrong.”
“In what way?”
She turned to him. “I feel like such a busybody right now, nosing into other people’s personal lives. Part of me thinks we should just leave the past buried, like Scarlett obviously wanted it to be. She would absolutely hate this.”
“You know I can’t let it go,” Peter replied emphatically.
Gwen let out a breath. “No, of course not. Because it’s not in your nature to respect other people’s boundaries or privacy.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he asked. “Especially when you admit to being just as eager as I am to find out the truth.”
She gave him a look. “Actually, I don’t think it’s harsh at all. Are you even aware of the distress you inflict upon celebrities? How they feel harassed? Imagine if someone followedyouaround all the time with a camera in your face or chased your car. Not to mention the cruel things you guys print about them, commenting about their weight gain or making fun of their outfits.”
“Hey, I never wrote that stuff,” he said defensively. “I just took photos.”
