“Well, uh...” I’m flummoxed by the request. My palm grows damp on the edge of the door.
The younger officer holds out a badge.
New Orleans Police Department, I read. It matches their uniforms and the car at the curb, so it’s unlikely they’re anything other than what they appear to be, but I’m scared to let them inside. Whatever it is that brought them here needs to stay out of Brooke’s house. “What’s this about?”
“We’d prefer to discuss it inside, if you don’t mind,” the older officer says.
“O-okay.” My hands shake as I close the door to unfasten the chain, then open it again. “Has something happened to Miss Margaret?”
“Miss Margaret?” the tall officer asks.
“Brooke’s grandmother. In Alexandria.”
He pulls out a notebook and jots something down.
“Wh-what’s going on?” I’m running through the plots of all the TV shows and movies I’ve ever seen, trying to come up with an acceptable reason for them to be here, a reason that won’t open a sinkhole beneath this household. Maybe they’re questioning everyone in the neighborhood about a crime or something.
“I think it would be better if we come in to talk,” the kind-eyed officer repeats.
“Of—of course.” I step back, letting them in, still clutching Ruffles. They take off their hats and follow me into the living room. I gesture to two armchairs by the fireplace. “I have to say, you’re really getting me worried.”
“We apologize for that.” He gives me a sympathetic smile andwalks to one of the chairs. His partner goes to the other. “And we apologize for coming by at this hour and disrupting your evening.” He holds out his hand, indicating the sofa, as if he were the host and I were the guest. “Please—have a seat.”
I sink to the sofa, Ruffles in my lap. It seems to take forever for the two men to lower themselves into the chairs.
“What’s this about?” I ask.
The gray-haired officer adjusts his glasses on his nose. “I’m afraid we have some bad news.”
My heart slams hard against my rib cage. I’ve already figured out that much.
“It’s about Brooke Adams,” he continues.
My breath freezes halfway through an inhalation. “Wh-what’s happened?”
“I really regret having to tell you this,” he says, “but Ms. Adams is dead.”
CHAPTER TWO
Margaret
Wednesday, April 3
I JUST LEFTBrooke at the cemetery, so I know she’s gone, yet it doesn’t seem real. I feel dazed and addlepated, like those prizefighters my late husband, Henry, used to watch on black-and-white TV, back when Muhammad Ali was still Cassius Clay—like I’m staggering around in circles, moving but not going anywhere. I feel pummeled and stunned and numb. Just when I think my head might be clearing, grief packs another wallop, sending me reeling again.
I’d forgotten this about fresh grief—how it hits, then hits again, drubbing you over and over. I’d forgotten how physical it is—how impossible it is to eat or sleep, how it makes you ache all over, how difficult it is to make decisions or conversation. And, oh, mercy—there are so many decisions, so many conversations that have to take place after a loved one dies.
“Can I get you something, Miss Margaret?” A petite brunette—why, she’s no bigger than a minute—appears in front of me, her brown eyes warm behind her large black-plastic-rimmed glasses. I don’t remember her name—maybe Amie, or was it Annie?—but I know she’s one of Brooke’s friends from that single-parent-by-choice club. They’ve been angels, really. They’ve brought food and arranged everything for this postfuneral reception at Brooke’s house. One of them took Lily to preschool the past few mornings because Quinn was helping me make funeral arrangements. Lily’s too young to understand what’s going on and it seemed best to justkeep her on her regular routine. They’re lovely young women, despite the fact they’re all so misguided.
“Why don’t you have a seat and let me fix a plate for you,” the sweet gal with theAname says.
“Thank you, but I don’t think I could eat a bite.”
“How about some iced tea, then? Or a glass of wine?”
I hesitate. I’m not much of one for day drinking, but wine has some appeal.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Let’s get you settled over here by the window, then I’ll bring you some wine.”
