Bred in the Bone (Widow's Island #4)(10)

The idea didn’t sit well. She wanted to perform her job. Not be coddled.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Phillip said. “Get over it. It takes time. You’re not Wonder Woman.”

“I could be if I tried,” she muttered.

“Don’t even consider it. We’ll have a plan in place for you after the beginning of the year. Relax and enjoy the holidays with your family. You’ll be happy to come back to work by then.”

Will I?





4


Samantha’s wake was Henry’s first experience in seeing the island pull together, and he was amazed.

Cate’s grandmother had taken charge. Jane Sutton was an organizational powerhouse and together with her circle of friends could probably solve most of the nation’s crises. By noon Jane’s home was overflowing with food delivered by mourners. She had brought Samantha’s mother into her home because Marsha’s own house was simply too small for the turnout Jane had known would happen. Every five minutes, someone came by with a casserole or flowers for Marsha.

People congregated, standing in small groups, murmuring quietly. Several framed photos of Samantha were displayed on the center of the dining table, which was packed with covered hot dishes.

Henry stayed back, a tongue-curling strong drink in his grip. Jane was playing bartender in addition to organizer and had served drinks to everyone who would accept. Marsha sat in a wingback chair, a woman holding her hand and other women sticking close by, keeping a careful eye on her. Marsha’s eyes were red, and Henry watched her closely, wondering if she’d need medication to get through the heartbreaking day. He soon realized that the women of Jane’s circle were more powerful than anything he could prescribe for Marsha.

Jane had sent two women with arms full of food to Jon Gill’s home—his son had died too, after all—but the women had soon returned. Jon hadn’t needed their company. Two of his friends were there and had reassured the women that Jon wouldn’t be alone. But they’d eagerly accepted the food.

Henry’s gaze went to Cate. She leaned against one wall with a few others, letting the conversation flow around her, one of Jane’s concoctions in her grip. Her face was a mask, her eyes staring at nothing, but he knew her mind was going full speed. Nearby, Tessa wore the same expression.

The two women had waited twenty years for news, and it was crushing.

He walked over and took Cate’s hand. She gave him a grateful glance and led him to a private corner.

“Your grandmother is unstoppable,” said Henry.

“Don’t I know it.” Cate sent an affectionate look Jane’s way. The woman was moving from group to group, refreshing drinks. “Tons of food, caring company, and sometimes a little alcohol can help people bear the unbearable. That is Jane’s mantra.”

He wanted to ask Cate how she felt, but he already knew. He’d learned to read her over the last few weeks. He saw disappointment, determination, and a lot of introspection.

“I have something for you.” He slipped two fingers into a pocket and pulled out a thin chain.

Cate caught her breath at the sight of Sam’s necklace. “You cleaned it up.” She took the pendant with a shaky hand. “Thank you. It looks brand new.” Her eyes held his as she wrapped her fingers around the pendant, the corners of her lips turning up.

Fixing the necklace was a small gesture. He’d hated the tarnish and the dirt that had been ground into it. It’d felt disrespectful.

“Marsha should have it,” she whispered, glancing at Samantha’s mother.

“You could ask.” He followed her to the center of the room, where Marsha sat.

Cate crouched next to the chair and handed Marsha the necklace. “This was Samantha’s,” she said. “I want you to have it.”

Marsha studied the delicate piece of jewelry. “Oh, no, dear. This is your memory of Samantha. I won’t take that from you.” She returned it to Cate’s hand, pressing her fingers over the necklace. “I have so many other things of Samantha’s . . . pieces that are a part of my history with her. This one belongs with you.” The women around her nodded in unison.

Henry agreed too. He knew the necklace would mean the most to Cate.

Cate pressed her lips into a thin line, and for a brief second Henry thought she would refuse. But she nodded. “Thank you, Marsha. I’ll treasure it.”

“Thank you for always caring about her, Cate.” Marsha patted her hand. “You were a true friend.” The woman’s haunted eyes studied Cate with longing.

Is she imagining Samantha at Cate’s age?

Cate stood as Jane waved at her from across the room. “Excuse me, Marsha.” She and Henry joined Jane, who was having a serious discussion with Edith Starr from the bakery.

“We’re not sure what to do about Rosa,” Jane told the two of them.

“Why does something need to be done?” Henry asked. The woman was in jail.

“Well, we’ve never had a circle member arrested before . . . at least not for murder,” Edith said.

The qualifier made Henry bite back a grin.

“I’m sure Rosa could use your support,” Cate told them.

“But she knew about Samantha’s death for twenty years and said nothing,” Jane pointed out. “I don’t know if I can forgive her for that.”