Page 38 of Potion Sickness

“There’s one more thing in there,” he says. “Last page.”

The last page is a photocopy of a theatre program, from the Duskboro High School Drama Society’s presentation of The Crucible. The cast list runs down the right side, with Pru playing Abigail Williams at top billing.

“Rupert found it in the school’s donation boxes,” Bert says. “I thought, with the play coming. Well. The Society keeps the original. But I thought the lady in question might like to see.”

“She’ll say she doesn’t care.”

“They always say that,” Bert says. “She was very good in it, you know. I remember.”

“I’ll let her know you thought so.”

* * *

Pru orders an heirloom tomato salad and a glass of the house white without even looking at the menu, which means she’s been here recently. The menu at Black Eyed Susan’s changes almost daily, when the local farms change what they’re sending, and right now, in mid-August, everything is tomatoes. Our table has a little sign that says:

Today:

Brandywine, Cherokee Purple,

Green Zebra, Sun Gold

Yes, they’re all tomatoes.

Yes, they’re all different.

Ask your server.

I get some gazpacho and an elderberry pour over, and when the food comes out, I understand why Pru didn’t need the menu. The tomatoes are sliced thick over burrata and torn basil with a garlicky vinaigrette, and the bread on the side is still warm.

I pull the folder from Bert out of my bag and set it on the table between us.

“What’s this?”

“I stopped by the Historical Society this morning. Rupert left a folder of everything he found on the Wardwells.”

“I’m sure it’s riveting.”

“Check out the last page.”

Pru wipes her hands and flips to the last page, where Bert had put the photocopy of the Drama Society program.

“They spelled Danforth wrong,” she says after scanning the page. “They added a ‘u’. Ricky Danforth’s mother was the assistant director and she couldn’t spell her own son’s part.”

She turns the page over, sees nothing on the back, and flips it back over. “Where’d Rupert find this?”

“The school donated a bunch of boxes. This is just a photocopy, though. Bert kept the original.”

“Of course Bert kept the original.”

“Bert said you were good in it,” I say. “Everyone says you were good in it.”

“I was sixteen and furious about everything. It’s the perfect part for that. It’s a part you can play furious.” She reaches for the bread. “My mother came every night. She told me I was a very convincing liar, which I think she meant as a compliment.”

I laugh.

“And of course your mother refused to attend on principle. She invited us over for dinner the night before opening and spent the whole time trying to convince my mother that staging that particular play in Duskboro was blasphemous.”

“I remember that dinner. I was there,” I say. “Harriet would still say all that that, if it got brought up.”