bed-and-breakfast.
Finally. Margo put the footrest down with a thud and tossed the paper aside. Ordinarily she might feel a little bereft at being left alone, but the idea that had come to her during church this morning required privacy.
Margo took a cautious look out the window to be sure Meredith wasn’t coming back for something she’d forgotten and then started up the stairs, her thoughts returning to the morning’s worship service.
She’d sat with Meredith where they usually did and watched as first Laura and Victor Hammond and then Jeannette Walker paraded down the aisle to the pews where their families had sat for generations. Their names might not be engraved on the seats, but no one else in Deer Run would think of sitting there. Even Meredith’s friend Rachel, who was raised Amish and had no background at all, sat in the Mason pew by reason of her disastrous marriage to the Mason boy.
Deer Run’s version of royalty, that’s what they were, just because their people had been here since the Year One. Lording it over others who were just as good as them, if not better.
Like Jeannette, standing in worship this morning to accept thanks for her role in organizing the flower stand, nodding graciously as if she were solely responsible for its success.
Margo paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. It didn’t do to hurry. She didn’t want to get one of her spells.
She’d done every bit as much to make the flower stand a success as Jeannette, and certainly more than Laura, who’d simply donated some flowers that her gardener grew. But they looked down on her, just because she’d married an Amish man who’d worked with his hands. For years she’d longed to get the upper hand on them, just once. And now— Well, maybe now she had a chance.
Meredith’s bedroom was as neat as always. Why on earth her daughter preferred this cool green space to the profusion of pink and ruffles that made Margo’s room so charming she surely couldn’t imagine. But she wasn’t here to question the decorating. She wanted to have another look at that scrapbook Meredith and her friends had kept the summer that Amish boy drowned.
Something was going on about that incident after all these years. Meredith imagined that she could keep secrets from her mother, but she couldn’t. Margo opened one drawer after another, searching for the scrapbook, frustrated at Meredith’s secretiveness. If Meredith would just be open with her, as a daughter should, she wouldn’t have to make these recurrent searches.
Finally she found it, tucked into the center drawer of Meredith’s desk beneath some folders. She pulled the scrapbook out, settled into the desk chair and opened it.
Margo clucked to herself as she flipped through the brittle pages, trying to make sense of them. If only she could remember something about the night of the accident, something no one else knew....
She paused, hand on the page, imagining herself the center of a crowd, congratulated and honored for resolving the mystery surrounding the boy’s death. And she remembered the night very clearly. She hadn’t wanted to be left alone, but John had insisted he had work to finish, leaving her by herself when that boy was drowning not a hundred yards from the house.
Margo turned another page and stopped. The scrapbook was filled with drawings, but this page had photographs, taken with the little camera Meredith had been given for her tenth birthday. Blurry and faded, they had been taken at the fire company fair that summer. Most were different combinations of Meredith, Rachel and Lainey, but one...
She bent over, studying it, wishing she had a magnifying glass. There was a teenage Laura, the center of an admiring group, as always. Jeannette stood a bit in the background, also as always.
The rest were boys. That had to be Aaron with his back to the camera, identifiable by his blond bowl-cut hair and straw hat. The others she wasn’t quite sure of. Victor and
Finally. Margo put the footrest down with a thud and tossed the paper aside. Ordinarily she might feel a little bereft at being left alone, but the idea that had come to her during church this morning required privacy.
Margo took a cautious look out the window to be sure Meredith wasn’t coming back for something she’d forgotten and then started up the stairs, her thoughts returning to the morning’s worship service.
She’d sat with Meredith where they usually did and watched as first Laura and Victor Hammond and then Jeannette Walker paraded down the aisle to the pews where their families had sat for generations. Their names might not be engraved on the seats, but no one else in Deer Run would think of sitting there. Even Meredith’s friend Rachel, who was raised Amish and had no background at all, sat in the Mason pew by reason of her disastrous marriage to the Mason boy.
Deer Run’s version of royalty, that’s what they were, just because their people had been here since the Year One. Lording it over others who were just as good as them, if not better.
Like Jeannette, standing in worship this morning to accept thanks for her role in organizing the flower stand, nodding graciously as if she were solely responsible for its success.
Margo paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. It didn’t do to hurry. She didn’t want to get one of her spells.
She’d done every bit as much to make the flower stand a success as Jeannette, and certainly more than Laura, who’d simply donated some flowers that her gardener grew. But they looked down on her, just because she’d married an Amish man who’d worked with his hands. For years she’d longed to get the upper hand on them, just once. And now— Well, maybe now she had a chance.
Meredith’s bedroom was as neat as always. Why on earth her daughter preferred this cool green space to the profusion of pink and ruffles that made Margo’s room so charming she surely couldn’t imagine. But she wasn’t here to question the decorating. She wanted to have another look at that scrapbook Meredith and her friends had kept the summer that Amish boy drowned.
Something was going on about that incident after all these years. Meredith imagined that she could keep secrets from her mother, but she couldn’t. Margo opened one drawer after another, searching for the scrapbook, frustrated at Meredith’s secretiveness. If Meredith would just be open with her, as a daughter should, she wouldn’t have to make these recurrent searches.
Finally she found it, tucked into the center drawer of Meredith’s desk beneath some folders. She pulled the scrapbook out, settled into the desk chair and opened it.
Margo clucked to herself as she flipped through the brittle pages, trying to make sense of them. If only she could remember something about the night of the accident, something no one else knew....
She paused, hand on the page, imagining herself the center of a crowd, congratulated and honored for resolving the mystery surrounding the boy’s death. And she remembered the night very clearly. She hadn’t wanted to be left alone, but John had insisted he had work to finish, leaving her by herself when that boy was drowning not a hundred yards from the house.
Margo turned another page and stopped. The scrapbook was filled with drawings, but this page had photographs, taken with the little camera Meredith had been given for her tenth birthday. Blurry and faded, they had been taken at the fire company fair that summer. Most were different combinations of Meredith, Rachel and Lainey, but one...
She bent over, studying it, wishing she had a magnifying glass. There was a teenage Laura, the center of an admiring group, as always. Jeannette stood a bit in the background, also as always.
The rest were boys. That had to be Aaron with his back to the camera, identifiable by his blond bowl-cut hair and straw hat. The others she wasn’t quite sure of. Victor and
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