Josephine closed her eyes. Her chin sagged, and a moment later, she was softly snoring, the Chihuahuas each nesting with their snouts in the opposing crooks of her elbows. Brooke waited tactfully. Should she leave?
Remembering Louette’s warning about overtiring Josephine, Brooke quietly stashed her notes in her briefcase and began to tiptoe toward the door.
Josephine’s eyes opened. “Where do you think you’re going?”
The Chihuahuas scrambled to alert, yawning, their huge eyes staring expectantly at the intruder.
“Um, I thought maybe you needed some rest,” Brooke said.
“I’ll let you know when I need some rest. Now, where was I?”
Brooke sat down again. “Well, I asked you who would be the beneficiary of your trust, and you said something about the girls of the high tide? Was that sort of a youth organization? Like Pioneer Girls maybe?”
“I’ve never heard of that organization, so why would I leave my island to them?”
“Sorry,” Brooke said. “Maybe I misunderstood. The High Tide Club?”
“For heaven’s sake. Keep up, will you? I just told you, these were my oldest, dearest friends in the world.”
“Oh.”
“It was all so long ago,” Josephine said drowsily. “Sometimes, I almost wonder if I dreamed them. Dreamed the times we had together.”
Brooke shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Um, just how long ago did you have these friends?”
Josephine waved her hand dismissively. “We were just girls. Millie and I were in kindergarten together. Ruth, oh, I don’t know. I suppose I met Ruth my first year at boarding school. We were both so terribly homesick. We hated our roommates. So we tricked them into ditching us so that we could room together. Oh, that Ruth. She was the most delicious fun! Sweet Millie, well, she had such a soft heart, the other girls would take advantage of her. So we had to take her under our wing, didn’t we? We were peas in a pod. We made our debut together…”
Josephine’s eyelids fluttered, and Brooke feared she was falling asleep again. Should she leave?
“I want you to find them for me,” Josephine said suddenly, fully awake again. “I… it was a long, long time ago, but it’s begun to eat at me. I’m not sleeping. I want to make amends. Before I go.”
“Make amends with these women? Your old friends?”
Josephine gave her a withering look. “Are you always this slow? Have you heard anything I’ve said so far?”
Brooke wondered what she was missing here. Josephine Bettendorf Warrick was inching up on the century mark. What was the likelihood that these girlhood friends would also still be alive?
“It’s just that, well, if these friends were your age, I was wondering…”
“If they’re dead?”
“I was trying to be tactful,” Brooke said.
“We don’t have time for tact, dear. Just say what you mean. I find that’s the best policy.”
“All right. When was the last time you were in touch with these friends?”
Josephine looked down at the dogs in her lap. She stroked their ears, scratched their noses. “Too long,” she said softly. “Much too long. Maybe it’s too late. Probably it is, but I have to know. I have to try.”
“Well,” Brooke said. “With computer databases, it’s usually not that difficult to track people down these days.”
“Computers?” she sniffed. “Never had any use for one. And unfortunately, I have no idea where to start looking.” She turned to a small mahogany end table that stood beside the recliner. Sliding the drawer open, she reached in and took out a yellowing envelope.
Brooke leaned in, trying to get a better look at it. Three names were scrawled on the envelope in fading blue ink.
The old lady’s hands shook violently, but she managed to unseal the flap. “Put out your hand,” she said.
Brooke obeyed, and the old lady shook a small item into Brooke’s palm, quickly returning the envelope to the drawer it had come from.
