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THE NEXT MORNING, BEATRICE slept a little longer than she’d planned—perhaps because of the planting the day before. She was surprised to find that she was sore from the activity, too. She must have been using some rarely-exercised muscles in the process.
Beatrice was vaguely aware that Wyatt had gotten out of the bed very early. When she walked, a bit bleary-eyed, out into the living room, he was showered and dressed in a suit. He had a couple of papers in front of him and a red pen. He smiled at her when she walked in.
“You’re pretty dressed up for the sudoku,” said Beatrice. She peered closer. “Actually, that’s not even the sudoku. And do I smell fresh baked goods? What on earth is going on this morning?”
“I ran out to June Bug’s shop and got us some muffins and pastries,” he said. He’d also made coffee and a carafe was on the table along with a creamer and sugar.
“You’re spoiling me silly,” mumbled Beatrice as she plopped into a chair across from him. “And what on earth are you studying? Oh, wait a minute. I must not have fully woken up yet. This is the morning of Pearl’s funeral. Now I remember.”
“Barton asked me to give a message at the service.” His forehead wrinkled as he studied his papers. “I’m just making sure that I’ve memorized it. I don’t want to have to read it from a piece of paper.”
Beatrice said, “Since you’ve already eaten, why not practice on me?”
While she ate one of June Bug’s delicious pecan and maple Danish pastries, Wyatt gave his short sermon. She nodded as she ate and listened. Wyatt had done an excellent job incorporating stories about Pearl and paying tribute to her as well as delivering a pithy message in about a five-minute time period.
“That was very good,” said Beatrice after he finished. “I think Barton will really appreciate it. And you certainly know it by heart ... I wouldn’t waste any more time trying to memorize it.” She paused. “Speaking of Barton, do you know when he might be at the church soon? I mean, not for the funeral, but for a meeting or an activity or something.”
Wyatt was still thinking about the service. He answered vaguely, “As a matter of fact, Barton is planning on attending the elders’ meeting later this afternoon. Everyone told him that he shouldn’t go after such a big day, but he said it would help to distract him to keep busy. And I know the meeting is today because of updating the calendar last night.”
“That’s at what time?” asked Beatrice innocently.
“Six-thirty. So quite a bit later after the funeral. He said that he’d have plenty of time to put his feet up this afternoon before heading back over to the church,” said Wyatt. He glanced at his watch. “I think I’ll go ahead and head out.”
Beatrice glanced at the clock. “This early?”
“I want to make sure that the funeral director sets up everything the way that Barton wanted. And Barton and I are going to go over a few final plans ... who is giving eulogies and whatnot.” Wyatt gathered up his papers and leaned over to give Beatrice a kiss.
Later that morning, Meadow arrived to pick Beatrice up.
“You know that the church is so close that I really don’t need a ride,” said Beatrice as she put a little lipstick on before walking out the door.”
Meadow’s attire was about as restrained as it could be. She wore a flowing black dress that seemed to be all one piece, but draped in several spots. “Pish! You’d be all hot and sweaty if you walked over and that’s no fun. By the way, the flowers we got yesterday look fantastic. You must be super-sore after all that work.”
“I was when I woke up, but my muscles are getting better as I’m using them today,” said Beatrice.
They got in Meadow’s car and headed off to the church. “It’s a good thing that we didn’t go in separate cars,” said Meadow.
Sure enough, there was barely enough room for one more car to park. Fortunately, Wyatt had thought to ask a couple of church deacons to help with the parking and they directed them to a spot.
“We should have come earlier,” said Meadow. “We might be standing in the back of the church.”
They didn’t have to stand, but they were on the very back pew of the church, which was completely filled.
“This looks like an Easter or Christmas Eve service,” said Beatrice, assessing the number of people there.
Meadow said, “Well, Pearl was very respected here and a lot of people knew her. I’m not too surprised that it’s this crowded at her funeral.”
The entire church was covered with flowers. There was a huge arrangement on the altar and flowers at the end of each pew. In fact, if there hadn’t been a casket in the front of the sanctuary (covered with a spray of roses), it would have looked more like a wedding ceremony than a funeral service.
Now Beatrice could see why Wyatt took extra time over his message. As she’d told Meadow, the entire service seemed more like a special occasion service than a funeral. There were soloists, a full choir in robes, and a small sermon from Wyatt.
After the service concluded, the family was to go to the graveside for interment, and then meet up with everyone at a reception in the church hall.
Meadow said, “I’ve never seen so many people in my life. I hope the church ladies provided enough food. I brought in several casseroles, myself, to help supplement. I thought there might be more folks than usual, but I never expected this many.”
Beatrice felt herself flush. She should have thought of bringing food. She still hadn’t gotten used to this minister’s wife gig. “Maybe I should go pick something up and bring it over to the church hall. There should be plenty of time. I’d hate for Pearl’s family to arrive at the reception and not have any food left.”
“That’s a good idea! You could even pick up a couple of containers of fried chicken. I know there are plenty of baking sheets in the church kitchen, and we can just lay it out on those instead of using the cardboard. No one will know it wasn’t homemade.”
Beatrice reflected glumly that anyone who knew her would know it wasn’t homemade.
As she was walking into the parking lot, she spotted Violet climbing into her car. Beatrice smiled at her. “We meet in the church parking lot once more.” She paused, narrowing her eyes with concern. “Everything all right, Violet?”
Violet’s face was puffy and pink, as if she’d been crying. She hastily scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve and nodded. “I’m fine. Funerals and weddings always make me cry. And that was a beautiful service for Pearl.”
“Are you sure that’s all that’s wrong?” asked Beatrice.
Violet gave a choked laugh. “No, I guess I’m really not sure. I’ve been very emotional lately. Well, you’d understand, since you’re in a guild. I had something of a falling out with the Cut-Ups. And the guild is pretty much everything to me. It’s the whole of my social life, for one.”
“A falling out? You’re no longer in the Cut-Ups?” asked Beatrice.
“I’m still in there. But I wonder if they wish that I’d just drop out,” said Violet. She hung her head and her hair hung limply like a veil around her face, obscuring it.
Beatrice said briskly, always hoping to avoid tears, “Well, I certainly doubt that. If they did, they’d have already voted you out. Besides, aren’t you the one who is winning quilt shows right and left? I’m sure they love that one of their guild members is doing so well.”
Violet colored and gave a sob. “Oh, Beatrice. Is it okay if I talk to you? You being the minister’s wife and everything ... is it sort of like talking to the minister? Private, and all?”
Beatrice considered this. Was Violet about to confess to the murders? She certainly wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet. She said cautiously, “I’d definitely try to. But would you rather talk to Wyatt?”
“Oh no, no I couldn’t. Not when I’ve done such a terrible thing. He’s such a good person that I would feel even worse,” said Violet.
Beatrice noted wryly that Violet had no trouble talking with her. She must not have passed the ‘good person’ test. Before she could reiterate that she would try to keep things under her hat, Violet started talking again.
“Never mind—I need to talk to someone too badly to care if you keep it to yourself or not. I don’t really have any friends, you know. I just have people that I work with or quilt with, or whatever,” said Violet. She hesitated. “Everybody just gets so irritated with me. I put everything I had into quilting and winning shows. I guess the success that I had went to my head. Maybe I didn’t act very nice about winning. I’ve been a poor sport.”
Beatrice said cautiously, “Well, I’m fairly new to quilting, myself, but I’ve noticed that people can be very sensitive about their work. After all, frequently they’ve spent months on a project. It’s almost like their child—they don’t want it criticized.”
Violet bobbed her head in agreement. “Yes, that’s exactly right. And I don’t think I really realized that I was doing that ... that I was being so critical. Maybe I just came across that way. All I knew was that I wanted to improve and get better. Sometimes it helped me see mistakes to avoid when I saw quilts that had issues. Anyway, I have to rebuild some bridges. I’ve been spending a lot of time at church just trying to feel better. My conscience has been bothering me, you know.”
Beatrice frowned. “Your conscience? About being a poor winner?” Or, she wondered, about something far grimmer?
Violet looked away as if trying to find the right words in the woods bordering the church grounds. “Let’s just say that I’ve done something that I shouldn’t have done. My anger and my hurt pride took over and I didn’t stop them. I acted on my emotions and didn’t think things through. I’m working now on improving myself, little by little. Maybe I’ll be able to patch things up at the Cut-Ups with specific folks there so that things can go back to the way they were when I first joined. Back then, they were so encouraging and supportive.” She made a face. “Ugh. I just realized what I’ve been saying. They were encouraging and supportive of me. I was the one who was critical and unsupportive.” Violet drew her eyebrows down and bent her head again so that her face was obscured.
Beatrice said, “I don’t have any doubt that you can make everything better between you and the Cut-Ups. I know those ladies in that guild and I don’t think they’re the types to harbor grudges.”
“I need to especially make up with Mona. Do you know her? She’s the president of the Cut-Ups. Unfortunately, I’ve been pretty ungrateful for all the help that she’s given me. Mona is a very talented quilter, and quilting is a huge part of her life ... but the last meeting that I went to, I got the feeling that she really didn’t want to even be there. And that was my fault.”
The door to the church opened and Beatrice and Violet glimpsed Wyatt walking with Barton Perry and what appeared to be other members of Barton’s family as they left for the interment. Violet sighed. “At least I’m not a hypocrite. I don’t think that I could stand myself if I was.”
“What do you mean? Who’s a hypocrite?” asked Beatrice.
“Barton.” Violet grimaced. “This probably isn’t the right day to be talking about him.” She waved her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Just ignore me.”
Beatrice said, “It seems to me that he would be even more of a hypocrite on a day like today than on ordinary days.”
Violet glanced around to ensure that no one was passing by. She said in a low voice, “I saw them together one day, you know. At the church.” Her voice was scandalized.
“Who was at the church?” asked Beatrice. “Barton?”
“Barton and Mae. The church was deserted and I’d gone to the church kitchen to help make a casserole for a bereaved family. When I stepped out into the hall, I saw them. Barton and Mae were embracing.” Violet quivered with indignation.
“This was before Pearl’s death, or after it?” asked Beatrice.
“Before. Oh, I was here at the service because of Pearl. She was a really amazing woman and always very kind to me when I ran into her. But I’m no fan of Barton, not after seeing him like that. I’m sure not voting for him when the time comes. If a man can cheat like that when he’s been married for so many years, who knows what else he might be capable of? It speaks of his character,” said Violet.
“When you saw them,” asked Beatrice slowly, “did you get the impression that Barton and Mae cared about each other? That they were in love at all?”
“Barton and Mae? Oh no. Well, Barton didn’t love Mae, anyway. I’d have said that he loved Pearl, even though he was cheating on her. He’s a hypocrite, like I said, but I do think he cared for Pearl. And for himself. But not for Mae.”
Beatrice asked, “And Mae?”
“Mae was another story. You could tell by the way she looked at Barton that she loved him. She just lit up when she was around him and usually she’s a really buttoned-up person. I thought to myself that she was going to end up getting her heart broken. It was very clear that Barton didn’t feel the same way about Mae as she did about him,” said Violet. She paused and glanced at her watch. “It was good talking to you, Beatrice, but I should run. Thanks so much for listening to me.”
Beatrice said with a sigh, “Me, too. I need to pick up some food for the reception.”
Twenty minutes later, Beatrice hurried into the church hall with two buckets of fried chicken and a harried look about her.
Meadow rushed up to her with the baking sheets. “There you are! I was beginning to think that you’d had to hunt down the chickens.”
Beatrice pushed a stray bit of hair off her face. “Is the family here yet?”
“Not yet. But any minute. And, as you predicted, we’re somewhat low on food. Where were you?” Meadow helped Beatrice put the chicken on baking sheets and then carry them over to the buffet line.
They moved away from the line of people at the buffet and Beatrice said quietly, “I spoke with Violet in the parking lot.”
Meadow’s eyebrows flew up. “Our local pyromaniac? Did you get her to confess?”
“Not in so many words, but I’m positive she must be behind the fire at Mona’s shed. Ophelia must have seen her, as we supposed. Violet just referenced feeling really guilty and trying to make amends to people. She’s making a change in herself, or trying to,” said Beatrice.
Meadow said, “Well, I wish her luck. Changing ourselves is just about the hardest thing out there. But she’s young enough that maybe it will be easier for her. And Dappled Hills is way too small to get on people’s bad sides. You’d be running into folks who were annoyed with you at the grocery store, gas station, library, post office. It would never stop! You’d have to practically be a recluse to avoid everyone.”
Beatrice glanced around. “Speaking of recluses, is Mae here?”
“She’s not. Although I don’t think that Mae is that bad of a recluse. It’s not as if she has her food delivered from the grocery store and doesn’t venture out into the town or anything. And we see her at church quite a bit, even if she rushes in, sits in the back, and rushes back out again without speaking to anyone,” said Meadow.
Beatrice said, “Although maybe the reason church was especially attractive to her is because Barton spends so much time here.”
“Is that what Violet thought?” asked Meadow.
“We didn’t talk about Mae’s churchgoing habits, although Violet did say that she’d happened to come across the two of them embracing at church one day,” said Beatrice.
“What? With the whole town around?” Meadow’s expression was scandalized.
“No, no. On a day when no one else was here. Except that Violet is here frequently helping out and working and happened to see them,” said Beatrice. “She was of the opinion that Mae was more enamored of Barton than he was of her.”
“Entirely possible,” said Meadow with a sniff. “I sometimes think that Barton is entirely too infatuated with himself to be really in love with someone else.” Then she craned her neck. “Oh, here he is, now.”
As Barton came into the building, he was immediately engulfed by people at the reception.
“I hope someone gets him a plate of food,” said Beatrice wryly.
Savannah spotted them across the room and started walking in their direction, a smile on her face.
Meadow said, “Well, would you look at that! Savannah is actually smiling. I can’t remember the last time I really saw her smile. I guess at Piper and Ash’s wedding, but before that I really can’t recall. She must be representing both herself and Georgia at the funeral. Heaven knows that Georgia and Tony are too busy to make it here.”
Savannah joined up with them. “A very nice funeral,” she said in her measured way. “Pearl would have appreciated the way it all came together.”
Beatrice said, “I’m sure she would have. How are you doing, Savannah? I didn’t really get a chance to speak with you at the guild meeting yesterday.”
Savannah said, “Actually, I’m doing pretty well. After the guild meeting, Posy invited Edgenora and me to come by the Patchwork Cottage.”
Meadow beamed at her. “Isn’t that nice!”
“It was. Edgenora was looking for some quilting tips and Posy asked if I could help her out since Posy is so busy with the shop and everything.” Savannah flushed a bit with pride at being asked. She added in a hushed voice, “Edgenora bought up half the shop! She can’t seem to resist fabrics or something. Anyway, I helped her for a while and Posy brought in some snacks from June Bug’s bakery, even though we’d been stuffed at your house already, Meadow. But it was still so good. After I leave here I’m dropping by Edgenora’s house to help her out some more. She has something to do at the church tonight, but I figured we could work on her quilt before then.”
Beatrice said, “That’s great, Savannah. Is Edgenora settling into Dappled Hills all right?”
Savannah considered this in her serious way. “Actually, I don’t think she has. Not so far, anyway. She had less time when she lived up north, apparently. She worked as a secretary and had a lot of friends. But then Edgenora got sick of the snow and had spent time in Dappled Hills when she was a child because her mother had family here. It was kind of a whim to move down and I think she’s had a tough time getting used to it. But things are looking up, she said.” She looked at her watch. “I should say a few words to Barton and then head on out. Good seeing you two.”
As Savannah briskly walked away, Meadow said to Beatrice, “She was just as peppy as it’s possible for Savannah to be! You know, she’s never really had anyone to be as close friends to her as her sister was. Maybe this will be the best thing that could have happened. Okay, back to what we were talking about earlier. Are you going to try to speak with Barton now? Because it doesn’t look as though he’s going to be freed up anytime soon.”
“Well, I’m going to speak with Barton, but just in my role as the minister’s wife expressing condolences. I’m going to come back to the church later this evening to talk with him,” said Beatrice. “And after I manage to speak with him here, maybe you and I could head on home. I think Wyatt may be here for a while.”