Killing Gifts by Deborah Woodworth

sometimes we can’t control what happens as a result. The hired workers won’t talk to us, or sometimes they aren’t as honest or they don’t work as hard as a Shaker. Hancock has dwindled sadly; you’ll see when you get there. They have had to hire an uncomfortable number of people from the world, who live and eat and work beside them. I need you to be my eyes and ears among those workers.”
    â€œSounds like fun,” Gennie said. “Just please, please don’t ask me to work in the kitchen. You know how I hate that.”
    â€œNo more than necessary, I promise. They have two girls already, and the kitchen is one place the sisters still work regularly. I think the Fancy Goods Store might be the best place for you.”
    Both women paused at the thought of Gennie stepping in for the dead girl.
    â€œDid you ever meet her, Rose? Julia, I mean.”
    â€œI did, just briefly, when I visited Hancock last autumn. I was in the store one afternoon, speaking with Sister Abigail about how well some of the goods were selling—I’ve always wanted us to open a Fancy Goods Store in North Homage, you know—when this lively girl with blond curls came bursting in and began to chatter away. She must have talked for twenty minutes straight about her men friends and the dances they were taking her to. I remember she complained quite a lot about how few party dresses she had. She didn’t seem to care that her audience was two Shaker sisters, who had no use for party dresses.”
    â€œSounds boring,” Gennie said. “I hope I don’t start doing that.”
    Rose laughed. “I will be sure to tell you if you head in that direction. But, nay, she wasn’t really boring, just . . .” Rose’s pale forehead furrowed as she cast her mind back to that day. “In a way, she was charming. She wanted pleasure, excitement, the admiration of men.”
    â€œWas she one of those spoiled rich girls? I’ve seen a few of them since Grady and I got engaged. Just because their people didn’t lose everything in ’29, they think they’re better than everyone else.”
    Gennie’s anger was apparent in her voice, and Rose understood. Gennie’s family had not been so lucky. Rose chewed a bite of her roast beef—really, it was nearly as tender as a Shaker recipe—to give Gennie a chance to calm down.
    â€œThough I do not know for certain,” Rose said, “I suspect Julia was just the opposite—a very poor girl, who’d had little gaiety in her life up to that time. She seemed starved, in a way, and starvation can sometimes lead one to grab more than one’s share. I felt sorry for her.” Rose took a sip of water. “I could see, though, that she would have been immensely appealing to men, especially men of a certain type.”
    Gennie’s fork clattered on her plate, and Rose smiled. “Remember, Gennie,” she said, “I am not such an innocent as all that. I have seen a great deal beyond my own village—sometimes more than I wanted to. The world can be very cruel to its children.” Rose scooped up the last bite of mashed potato and forced herself to eat it. The waiter was instantly at her elbow to remove the empty plate. As he did so, his eyes met hers for a fraction of a second. She smiled at him, but he had already gone.
    â€œSo do you suspect that one of these ‘men of a certain type’ killed Julia?” Gennie asked. “A lovers’ quarrel maybe?”
    â€œIt’s possible,” Rose said. “I’ll know more when I’ve spent some time at Hancock. But it’s an idea you might pursue more easily than I. Sister Fannie told me that most of the hired hands grew up in Pittsfield and have known each other for years. Try to get them talking about each other and about Julia.”
    â€œYes, what a good idea!” Gennie almost bounced in her seat with