Hidden Talents

see.”
    “Brought my product with me tonight. Thought maybe you could take a look at it. Tell me whether it's good enough for Serenity's catalog.”
    “Sure, why not? I'm sure Asterley would understand if we do a little business at his wake.”
    Webster reached into a voluminous pocket and brought out a palm-sized rock. He displayed it proudly on his dirt-stained hand. “There it is. What d'ya think, Ventress? Sell like crazy, huh?”
    Caleb gazed at the rock. It looked like a very ordinary rock. “What, exactly, is it?”
    Webster frowned. “It's a rock. What's it look like?”
    “A rock.” Caleb picked it up. “Interesting.”
    Webster brightened. “Thought you'd like it. Plenty more where that came from. How many you think I should have on hand when the first catalog goes out? Hundred, maybe?”
    “Webster, I've got to be honest with you,” Caleb said diplomatically. “I don't really think there's a big market for rocks like this.”
    Webster scowled. “My rocks are beautiful.”
    Serenity materialized at Caleb's elbow. She looked anxious. “What a lovely rock, Webster.” She gave Caleb a bright smile. “Webster is a connoisseur of rocks. He collects them. I'm sure we'll be able to market them through our catalog.”
    “I don't think so,” Caleb said.
    Webster began to look alarmed. “What's wrong with rocks?”
    “Please, Caleb,” Serenity said. “You're a marketing genius, remember? You can find a way to sell Webster's rocks.”
    “I'm telling you, there's no demand for ordinary rocks,” Caleb said patiently.
    Webster snatched his rock out of Caleb's hand. “You want fancier rocks? By God, I'll get 'em for ya. You'll see.” He swung around and stomped off through the crowd.
    “Now you've hurt his feelings,” Serenity complained.
    “You're trying to start a business, not a charity,” Caleb said. “We are not featuring rocks in the catalog.”
    Serenity glowered at him and went back to the kitchen.
    “She worries about everyone in this town,” Jessie said softly. “And I should warn you that we worry about her. You went away with her this weekend.”
    “I thought this was a town where everyone minded his or her own business,” Caleb said dryly.
    Jessie's smile was cool. “I've got news for you. This is a small town, and all small towns, even places like Witt's End, share a few common traits.”
    “I know all about small towns. I grew up in one.”
    “Then you know that people in small towns talk.”
    “Yes,” Caleb said. “I do. It's called gossip.”
    The old gossip about his parents had never really died in Ventress Valley. It had been resurrected from time to time while he was growing up.
    The tale of how the scion of the town's leading family had been seduced by a centerfold model was never mentioned in Roland's hearing. Caleb, however, had gotten into several fistfights in the schoolyard and out behand a few barns because of the taunts of various classmates who had overheard their parents discussing the past.
    Caleb had fought those youthful battles with the same relentlessly focused anger and determination that he used to win prizes and blue ribbons for Roland. His grandfather had noticed the occasional black eye and bloody nose, but he had never asked what the fight had been about. He only wanted to know if Caleb had won.
    Jessie studied Caleb closely. “I wasn't talking about gossip. At least not in the way you mean. What I meant was that in a small town people look out for each other. Serenity is one of us. She's got this dream of creating a mail order business, and she seems to think you can help her do it. That's fine as long as she's happy. But if you hurt her or use her, a lot of people are going to get real mad.”
    “I'll keep that in mind.”
    “You do that.” Jessie turned to walk away.
    “Jessie?”
    She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “What?”
    “I never knew Asterley, but Serenity told me that you and he were more than friends.” Caleb met her eyes. “I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about what happened.”
    Jessie's gaze softened. “Thanks.” She looked out over the room full of surprisingly cheerful mourners. “You know, I really thought he was going to stay sober for a while. When I left him that night he was doing okay. A little depressed, but I didn't think he was feeling bad enough to open a bottle. He stuck to coffee while I was there.”
    “When did you leave him?” Caleb asked curiously.
    “Around eleven. I had