I pay for the medicine and Mother’s tubes and goo and work my way back through the aisles. As I try to escape along the far side of the store, Lou Anne Templeton steps from behind the hairbrush rack.

“Skeeter,” she says. “You have a minute?”

I stand there blinking, surprised. No one’s asked me for even a second, much less a minute, in over eight months. “Um, sure,” I say, wary.

Lou Anne glances out the window and I see Elizabeth heading for her car, a milkshake in hand. Lou Anne motions me closer, by the shampoos and detanglers.

“Your mama, I hope she’s still doing better?” Lou Anne asks. Her smile is not quite as beaming as usual. She pulls at the long sleeves of her dress, even though a fine sweat covers her forehead.

“She’s fine. Still . . . in remission.”

“I’m so glad.” She nods and we stand there awkwardly, looking at each other. Lou Anne takes a deep breath. “I know we haven’t talked in a while but,” she lowers her voice, “I just thought you should know what Hilly’s saying. She’s saying you wrote that book . . . about the maids.”

“I heard that book was written anonymously,” is my quick answer, not sure I even want to act like I’ve read it. Even though everyone in town’s reading it. All three bookstores are sold out and the library has a two-month waiting list.

She holds up her palm, like a stop sign.“I don’t want to know if it’s true. But Hilly . . .” She steps closer to me. “Hilly Holbrook called me the other day and told me to fire my maid Louvenia.” Her jaw tightens and she shakes her head.

Please. I hold my breath.Please don’t say you fired her.

“Skeeter, Louvenia . . .” Lou Anne looks me in the eye, says, “she’s the only reason I can get out of bed sometimes.”

I don’t say anything. Maybe this is a trap Hilly’s set.

“And I’m sure you think I’m just some dumb girl . . . that I agree with everything Hilly says.” Tears come up in her eyes. Her lips are trembling. “The doctors want me to go up to Memphis for . . .shock treatment . . .” She covers her face but a tear slips through her fingers. “For the depression and the . . . the tries,” she whispers.

I look down at her long sleeves and I wonder if that’s what she’s been hiding. I hope I’m not right, but I shudder.

“Of course, Henry says I need to shape up or ship out.” She makes a marching motion, trying to smile, but it falls quickly and the sadness flickers back into her face.

“Skeeter, Louvenia is the bravest person I know. Even with all her own troubles, she sits down and talks to me. She helps me get through my days. When I read what she wrote about me, about helping her with her grandson, I’ve never been so grateful in my life. It was the best I’d felt in months.”

I don’t know what to say. This is the only good thing I’ve heard about the book and I want her to tell me more. I guess Aibileen hasn’t heard this yet, either. But I’m worried too because, clearly, Lou Anne knows.

“If you did write it, if Hilly’s rumor is true, I just want you to know, I will never fire Louvenia. I told Hilly I’d think about it, but if Hilly Holbrook ever says that to me again, I will tell her to her face she deserved that pie and more.”

“How do—what makes you think that was Hilly?”Our protection—our insurance, it’s gone if the pie secret is out.

“Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. But that’s the talk.” Lou Anne shakes her head. “Then this morning I heard Hilly’s telling everybody the book’s not even about Jackson. Who knows why.”