“And miss all the fun here? Poor you.” There was the sound of laughter coming from the dining room. When Kate turned, she saw that the sliding glass doors had extraordinarily heavy accordion shades drawn across them. “What are those?”
“Hurricane shutters,” Jack said with a grin.
Kate laughed. “Closed against a hurricane coming from the inside.”
“You have your cell?”
She handed it to him and he put his number into it.
“Hate to leave this place, but I think I’ll go to the quiet of power tools.” He heaved himself up with his crutches.
“Why don’t you take Aunt Sara with you?”
He started walking away from the doors. “I thought I would. I just need to find her. She’s good at hiding. Anything else you want to know about me?”
She thought of asking about what actually happened the night Evan was killed, but she didn’t. “How much of your father’s personality did you inherit?”
“Much more than I’d like to have. Call me when the house is clear.”
She watched him disappear behind plants, then went into her suite.
At the door, she took a few moments to gather her courage. With her shoulders back, she left her cozy apartment and went into the house. She called the people together and told them a whitewashed version of the plan. This was to be a memorial service, not some kind of undercover investigation. “The sheriff’s department is looking into the deaths of these women, and they’re handling it well. We just need to gather the people who share memories of them.” She knew her words would be reported to Sheriff Flynn and it was better to keep him off their backs.
She explained about the stories they would encourage guests to write and how they were to be put in the box by the door. The messages would then be deposited, unopened, into the coffins with Cheryl and Verna. After that, refreshments would be served. It would be a simple, thoughtful memorial, and that was the message they should be sharing with the people they were contacting. Did they have any questions?
Hands shot up. Would there be wine? What about beer? Domestic or imported? What kind of food? Gluten-free? What about people with nut allergies? How about caviar? Maybe a bartender should be hired. Somebody’s son-in-law was a bartender in a Miami nightclub. Could he have the job?
When Heather saw that Kate was about to drown in questions, she took over—and made the decisions. Wine, yes, no to beer and hard liquor. No caviar, but lots of hors d’oeuvres.
After lunch—ordered from the local pizzeria—a young woman showed up and Kate knew she was Jack’s s
ister, Ivy. She wasn’t dark like he was, but was fair like their mother, with streaky brown hair and big blue eyes.
They were two young people in a sea of oldies. “Love your dress,” Ivy said.
“It’s a Kate Spade knockoff. I find clothes I like online and my mother makes them for me.”
“Wow! Really? That’s a dream come true. By the look of it, she’s an incredible seamstress. Where does she get the fabric?”
“She flies to New York four times a year and returns with piles of glorious fabrics and trims.”
They smiled at each other, then ran to Kate’s room to look at her clothes and shoes and bags.
An hour later, Heather pulled them back into the chaos and put them to work organizing who’d said yes and who’d said no.
Kate slipped away to text Jack. Okay to tell your mom and sister the truth?
The answer came back instantly. Yes.
“Don’t wear your fingers out,” she mumbled and went back to work.
The people didn’t leave until 8:00 p.m., and Kate texted Jack that they were gone. Minutes later, he and Sara were back there—and the house was blissfully quiet.
Sara and Kate were bursting to tell each other all that had happened, while Jack sat at the kitchen counter and listened. They unloaded the casseroles from the fridge and reheated them.
When it came to eating, they were like the Three Bears. Jack ate lots of anything; Sara ate no carbs or sugar; Kate ate as low-calorie as she could manage.
Through it all, Sara and Kate talked while Jack smiled.