From Cradle to Grave by Patricia MacDonald Page A

have to stay off to the side. With guards.’
    ‘Are you insane? That woman killed my son. And my grandson,’ Dick exploded.
    Astrid shook her head, and blew her nose into a tissue.
    Morgan did not try to offer any explanation. There was no way for her to make this request less onerous. She assumed that they understood that. It was simply up to them to render a verdict. The last word.
    The room was silent. Finally, Astrid broke the silence. ‘I don’t know how she could ever think to show her face there.’
    Morgan stifled a sigh. She did not have the heart to protest or plead Claire’s case any further. What could she say? These people had a right to their anger.
    Suddenly, there was a tapping on the door of the den. Then the door opened, and Fitz stuck his head in. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.
    Astrid looked at him impatiently. ‘Fitz, not now . . .’
    Fitz raised a hand. ‘Um . . . Eden’s grandparents just showed up here from West Virginia. They are looking for their granddaughter. What do I tell them?’
    Morgan frowned. It was really the first time she had even thought about Guy’s daughter, who had appeared so inopportunely at the christening. ‘Guy’s daughter?’ she asked. ‘Is she still in town?’
    Dick Bolton seemed to summon some of his old spirit. ‘They have the nerve to come here? Those insane rednecks?’ Dick muttered in disgust. ‘Don’t let them in.’
    ‘Dick, don’t,’ Astrid murmured. She turned to Fitz. ‘Did they try the Spauldings? That’s where she was staying.’
    Fitz shrugged. ‘I think they did.’
    ‘Well, then I don’t know,’ said Astrid wearily. ‘I haven’t seen her since the night before . . . since the night of the dinner.’
    Eden, Morgan thought. She had almost forgotten that Eden had been the spark that ignited this tragedy.
    ‘Are you expecting Eden to show up here?’ Fitz asked.
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Astrid. ‘She certainly hasn’t called to offer her condolences for our grandson . . .’ Astrid’s voice cracked. ‘Or my stepson.’
    ‘Tell them to go home,’ Dick thundered. ‘We don’t know anything about that kid. Tell them to leave. They’re not welcome here.’
    Astrid took a deep breath. ‘No. No, darling. Wait. That would be rude. They’ve come a long way and they’re worried about their granddaughter.’
    ‘After what they put us through,’ Dick cried. ‘I don’t owe those people a thing.’
    Astrid ignored his protest. ‘Offer them some food or something to drink and tell them to wait, if you would, Fitz. I’ll be with them in a minute,’ said Astrid calmly.
    Fitz nodded in agreement and withdrew, closing the door.
    Astrid turned to Morgan. Despite being middle-aged, she had a still-refined face and erect carriage, which seemed to only be sharpened by her grief. ‘Look, you’d better go,’ she said. ‘This is a family matter. This is not really the place for you.’
    ‘Yes, all right,’ said Morgan.
    ‘Just tell Claire we said no,’ said Astrid. ‘No, she can’t come. Our lives are ruined because of her.’
    ‘Wait a minute.’ From his club chair, Dick Bolton’s voice interrupted with surprising strength.
    Morgan turned and looked at him in mild surprise. She was ready for him to hurl a parting insult at her.
    ‘On second thought, maybe she should be there. Yes. Tell her she can come,’ he said. ‘To the funeral.’
    Astrid turned on him. ‘Dick,’ she exclaimed.
    ‘I want her there,’ said Dick. ‘I want to see her face.’ He looked from Morgan to Astrid. ‘That’s final. She can come.’
    Morgan felt a chill. She did not dare look at Astrid, who was gasping with dismay. Of course Morgan realized that there was menace embedded in Dick’s permission. How could Claire expect any reception at this funeral other than a completely hostile one? Still, it was the answer Claire wanted, and Morgan would bring it back to her. She only hoped that Claire would not regret her choice. As she murmured