EPILOGUE

Pixie took Saturday off from her part-time job at Booked for Beauty to cover for Tricia at Haven’t Got a Clue. Angelica had insisted on staying the night to help Tricia dress, bathe, and even eat. Her hands were so swollen Tricia couldn’t even hold a cup, but by Sunday, she was pretty sure she could be left on her own. Angelica was an excellent nurse, but after thirty-six straight hours with her sister, Tricia was aching to be on her own or at least spend a little time alone with David. Pixie took care of that, too, as she didn’t hit the Sunday estate sales so that she could take care of the store along with Mr. Everett.

“People are dropping dead like flies,” she said, then seemed to realize the phrase could be taboo to someone who’d just witnessed a death. “I mean, there’ll be more estate sales next week.”

So, Tricia and David watched a football game, and then they, along with Mr. Everett, set out for Antonio’s and Ginny’s home for their weekly family dinner.

Thankfully, the others were only concerned about her health and didn’t press for details about Amelia’s death. But, she noticed, they weren’t afraid to ask David in whispered tones for details.

Tricia was glad to retreat to the kitchen to help Angelica.

“Your hands look much better than they did this morning, and so does your face. I predict by Tuesday, you’ll be back to your lovely, smiling self,” Angelica said cheerfully.

“I hope so,” Tricia said.

“Would you ask Ginny to serve the pizza rolls?”

“Oh, I can do it. As you said, my hands are much better.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can hold a tray,” Tricia assured her sister.

“Okay,” Angelica said doubtfully, but watched as Tricia carefully lifted it. She picked up the other one and followed her sister to the family room, where the others had gathered.

“Would you like a pizza roll?” Tricia asked.

“Tricia dear, sit down. Let me take that tray,” Grace insisted.

“No, thanks. I need to feel useful.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

Grace took one of the rolls, but before she tasted it, she spoke again. “Tricia, have you heard the good news?”

“News?”

“The library board will bring back Lois Kerr as director until they find someone else to take on the job.”

“How does Lois feel about it?”

“Ecstatic. Apparently, she found retirement to be a dreadful bore.”

Tricia laughed. “I’m not surprised. But I’m shocked David didn’t mention it to me.”

Grace looked embarrassed and lowered her voice. “Perhaps I ought to let him know before he finds out another way.”

Tricia nodded. “Mum’s the word,” she said, and moved on to Ginny, who bounced baby Will on her lap. “Would you care for a pizza roll?”

Ginny made a face.

“They’re good. I tried one,” Tricia assured her.

“I don’t doubt it, but someone needs a change,” she said, and nodded toward her son. “Save a couple for me, will you?” she asked, and got up to change the baby’s diaper.

Antonio was occupied with Sofia, who sat on his knee, whimpering after having tripped while chasing Sarge. The little dog sat nearby looking desolate, his brown eyes damp with what looked like unshed tears because his little human friend was in distress.

Sofia was soon placated with a pizza roll and Tricia moved on to the others.

David and Mr. Everett sat in a corner chatting. “Tricia’s already abandoning plastic. Just think, if everyone jumped on that bandwagon, refusing to buy needless plastic junk, it would be a boon to the planet’s health. Is this something the Everett Foundation might champion?”

“Tell me more,” Mr. Everett said.

Tricia offered the tray of rolls to the men.

“No, thank you,” Mr. Everett said.

David reached for one. “Thanks.”

As Tricia and Angelica circled back to the kitchen, they heard a loud knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Angelica said. “Who’d come visiting on a Sunday evening?”

“Maybe it’s Ian. He said he’d probably track me down with more questions,” Tricia said, following Angelica.

The knock came again, and then the doorbell was pressed repeatedly.

“All right, all right!” Angelica called, and flung open the door. Standing on the step, wearing a baggy beige raincoat that had seen better days, with a large, battered, brown string-handled shopping bag sitting beside her on the concrete, was Sheila Miles.

“Mother, what are you doing here?” Angelica cried. It was not a sentence said with joy—more like horror.

“Your father and I have come for a visit.”

Tricia stepped closer, her mouth dropping open in shock and dismay. “Mother?”

“Oh. There you are, too. I figured you’d be wherever Angelica was. You two are as thick as thieves these days. It never happened when you were children,” Sheila said derisively.

The woman was always ready with the insults—and usually aimed at Tricia. The sisters filled the doorway, almost as a blockade.

“Well, where is Daddy?” Angelica said, looking around the lone figure on the stoop.

Sheila bent down and reached into the wrinkled sack, withdrawing a black plastic rectangular box. She shoved it at Tricia, forcing her to take it. “Here.”

“What is it?” Angelica asked with a look of distaste.

Sheila glared at Tricia, as malevolent a gaze as Tricia had ever seen. “Your father’s cremains.”