Killing Gifts by Deborah Woodworth

present them to his sweetheart.
    â€œDoes she visit often?” Gennie asked.
    â€œOnce or twice a week, I’m afraid,” Abigail said. She released a long sigh. “She’s very hungry, poor woman. Very hungry and very angry.”
    Â 
    Rose busied herself scrubbing pans, everyone’s least favorite task, and pondered the silence. Fannie had introduced her all around the kitchen, then left. Rose was the only Shaker sister in the room, and the two hired women seemed to feel too shy to talk around her. They avoided looking in her direction, so she took advantage of the situation to study them.
    Both young women appeared to be about the same age, but there the similarity ended. Dulcie Masters, the dead girl’s sister, was dressed in an old, loose Shaker work dress and she wore no apron, so her figure was completely hidden. Her face was round and pale. She moved quickly and seemed intent on her task. Though no indoor cap covered her pale brown hair, she looked and acted as if she were indeed a sister.
    The woman named Carlotta DiAngelo was dark and thin, all sharp angles, with the hooded eyes of a hawk. Her gray cotton work dress fitted her snugly and fell to just below her knees, as if she’d grown up wearing it. Her movements were slow, bored. Clearly, she would rather be somewhere else.
    Though both women wore light sweaters, neither seemed to notice the chill, which drove Rose to keep her hands in the warm, soapy water as long as possible. The kitchen was located in the basement of the Brick Dwelling House, and the several large ovens mostly went unused, so the temperature was much lower than Rose was used to back in North Homage’s kitchen. Her wool work dress wasn’t enough to keep her shoulders warm. She’d thought about working in her cloak, but it would be awkward.
    The pans finished, Rose dried her hands and decided it was time to get the two women to talk. The faster she resolved this terrible situation, the faster she could get home to her own warm, cozy kitchen.
    â€œFannie mentioned that you two grew up together in Pittsfield,” Rose said, as she swung a copper-bottomed pan onto a wall peg. She turned back around to find Dulcie staring wide-eyed at her as if she’d threatened them with expulsion into the cold.
    â€œWhy’d you want to talk to Fannie about us for?” Carlotta’s expression had hardened into a mask of distrust. “We ain’t important. We’re just the hired help. Although you’d hardly know it to look at Dulcie.” She grinned at Dulcie, whose cheeks reddened.
    â€œWe do not think less of you because you are not Shakers,” Rose said.
    Neither woman responded. Rose suspected they did not believe her. “Is there anything the sisters could do to make you feel more welcome here? I’d be glad to help.”
    Carlotta snorted softly, and Dulcie said only, “The sisters have been very kind.” She lifted a flat broom from its peg and began sweeping up crumbs from under the worktable.
    Rose had hoped to earn some trust to ease her questioning, but she saw her stay in Hancock stretching into weeks if she could not find a way to loosen the tongues of these people. Fannie had said that Carlotta was a bit of a gossip, but she certainly hid it well. Back in Kentucky, Rose could always count on a gossip to be a good source of information. Maybe people were different here, more closemouthed around strangers. Agatha wasn’t there to urge her to be patient, and Rose was not one to sit on her hands. It was time to push ahead.
    â€œDulcie,” she said, keeping her voice gentle and friendly, “I’m so sorry about your sister’s sad death. You must be very upset. Were you close?”
    Dulcie stopped in mid-sweep and looked as if she might crumple. But she said only “Thank you,” and returned to her sweeping.
    Rose tried again. “Carlotta, Fannie mentioned that you and Julia were the same