“I did visit Pamela with Nora at the retirement home where Pamela volunteers.”
“Oh, that must have been quite a visit.”
Sam grinned at her.“Precious and Arlo were there, too.And Franklin.”
Olivia laughed at the mental image.“Classic.Were you able to find out any information, or was it just a total zoo?”
“It’s not as bad as I made it sound.Precious and Nora were mostly out of the way, visiting a resident there.Anyway, Pamela clearly wasn’t wild about Margaret.I found that out mostly from other people I talked to.She seemed nervous about Margaret’s memoir, from what I gathered. As far as Claire goes, she felt betrayed by Margaret.”
Olivia frowned.“Because of the way Margaret criticized her manuscript?The critique she gave her?”
“It was more than that.I mean, that was bad enough.But Margaret had apparently told her she’d help her out by sending a note to one of her contacts at the publisher Claire was querying.”
Olivia winced.“Oh no.I didn’t realize Claire was that naïve.Ugh.What did Margaret do?”
“Apparently, she wrote a scathing review of the manuscript.The publisher didn’t end up accepting the book.It devastated Claire.”
“Of course it did.”said Olivia.She shook her head.“Margaret was a bully in a lot of ways.I’m sorry for what happened to her, but it doesn’t excuse her behavior.”
Sam murmured agreement, but could sense Olivia’s discomfort with the topic.They fell into an easy rhythm after that, sorting donations and chatting about lighter things like Olivia’s new workout class.The work went quickly with the two of them, and by the time they finished a couple of hours later, Sam felt like she’d really contributed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sam spent the restof the day running errands, walking Arlo, and trying to lose herself inMiddlemarch.She’d been looking forward to diving back into Dorothea’s story, but she kept reading the same paragraph over and over, her mind drifting to Margaret and Gerald instead of nineteenth-century England.She ended up leaving her reading to putter around her yard, clearing away weeds and dead-heading her rose beds.At least gardening gave her hands something to do while her mind worked through the murders.
The next morning, she dressed for Margaret’s memorial service.She’d let Charlotte know she was going to be there, and Charlotte, apparently still worrying over attendance, had sounded very relieved.
The Sunrise Chapel was a small, nondenominational space on the edge of downtown.It was the kind of place that hosted memorial services or weddings for people with no strong church affiliation.Sam arrived at the same time as Olivia and walked with her from the parking lot a few minutes before ten, the October morning crisp and clear.
“I hate these things,” Olivia said quietly as they walked toward the entrance.“Especially when the person who died was fairly complicated.”
As it turned out, Charlotte’s fears about no one showing were partly justified.The chapel could hold perhaps seventy-five people, but only about twenty had gathered.Charlotte greeted them as they sat on a pew next to her.“Thanks for coming,” she said, giving them a grateful look.“It means a lot.Margaret’s niece flew in from Denver.I don’t think she’s seen Margaret in years.”
Sam took in the sparse gathering.The front row held a woman in her forties who had to be the niece, sitting alone.Her posture was dutiful rather than grief-stricken.She looked like someone who was attending out of obligation rather than sorrow.
Claire Mills sat three rows back, her usual composure firmly in place, though her eyes looked tired.She gave Sam a small nod of acknowledgment.Sam noticed she’d chosen a seat near the aisle, as if ready to make a quick exit if needed.
