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Hale.

She grimaced, remembering the sexual thrill that had shot through her last night, just after she’d finished breast-feeding the baby. Shaking her head, she aimed straight for the shower. Embarrassing, that was what it was. And weird. This wasn’t normal. It wasn’t . . . her.

An hour and a half later she was through with the shower and was blow-drying her hair. Combing it into a ponytail, she gave her body a hard look in the mirror, turning sideways. Yes, there was some pooching out. No denying that. But with exercise and a decent diet, she believed she would be back to her old self soon enough.

Feeling better, she opened her closet doors, pulling out black slacks, a dark gray shirt, and a long overcoat. She gathered up the clothes she’d brought in from her car and took them to the alcove off the kitchen, which served as her laundry room. She threw her ski jacket in the washer along with some detergent, then piled Kristina’s clothes into the laundry bin that sat on top of the dryer.

So, now what? she thought. Baby Declan was being taken care of by his father and the nanny, who evoked feelings of jealousy in Savvy, which made her groan aloud at herself. “Get a grip,” she told herself in disgust.

A little over a half hour later she put the wet laundry in the dryer, threw a look at the clock. Two p.m. She needed to buy a breast pump tout de suite, so she drove into Tillamook and purchased one, trying it out in the front seat of her rental, beneath the overcoat, which she’d taken off and laid over her body. Twenty minutes later she thought, What a pain in the ass, when it was a total trial and nothing much came out.

After that, she sat staring through the windshield for another ten minutes. Then she drove to the station.

O’Halloran had told her they would talk about whether she would be chained to desk duty on Monday. Might as well find out if that decree still stood.

Catherine refused to head upstairs to her room, partly because she wanted to put off going up those steep steps when she still felt somewhat shaky, partly because she was waiting for Earl, who was on a second trip to the hospital to pick up Ravinia and Ophelia.

Isadora said to her, “Let me get you something to eat.”

“No, I’m not hungry. I just need a little time.”

“I’ll just get some tea and crackers.” Isadora hurried off, clearly needing to do something. Catherine inwardly sighed. Everyone’s solicitousness was about to kill her.

Lillibeth had parked her wheelchair directly in front of Catherine. “What happened? You don’t have to go back, do you?”

“I’m fine,” Catherine assured her.

“You’re sure?” Cassandra asked. “It was just an accident? Just a fall?”

“Yes,” Catherine said firmly. “I have a concussion. I slipped, and my head hit one of the flagstones.”

“Don’t do that again,” Lillibeth begged.

“I don’t intend to,” Catherine answered with asperity.

As much as she loved her nieces, she really needed them to give her some space. There were things that needed to be done, problems that needed to be addressed, and she needed Earl’s help to accomplish them.

Like exchanging the bones in the grave marked as Mary’s with those in the unmarked grave, where Mary’s bones actually lay.

But how to accomplish that, with all the girls—women—so attentive and aware of Catherine’s every movement now?

She was pretty sure she was going to have to confide in one of them, and with God as her witness, she thought it might have to be Ravinia.

Cassandra was sitting in one of the chairs across from the couch, the side of her face fanned with jeweled light from the Tiffany lamp, which was cutting into the afternoon’s gloom. The prism of colors against her cheek gave her an otherworldly look. Like Lillibeth, she questioned, “It was just an accident?”

“I’m sorry I had to leave,” Catherine said, trying to assure them. “Sometimes things just happen.”

“There’s always a reason,” Cassandra argued.

“No, there isn’t.” Catherine would’ve gotten to her feet and stalked away from them, but she was blocked by Lillibeth, and honestly, she wasn’t 100 percent yet.

Isadora returned with a tray of tea and crackers and several tiny ceramic pots of strawberry and apricot jams. Nobody touched it, however, and Catherine swallowed her frustration, picked up a waferlike cracker, and spread it with apricot jam. Isadora poured her a cup of tea, and once she was eating, everyone else finally stopped staring at her and joined in.

Ravinia had the journal, and with her nosiness, it would only be a matter of time before she started asking about the man in the grave. Maybe Catherine could head her off at the pass, but there were other issues pressing

upon her.

She needed Earl to go to Echo Island and find out who was there. As far as she could tell when Isadora and Cassandra helped her into the lodge, there was no fire visible any longer; hopefully it had burned out. If at all possible, she would like to meet Earl outside the gate, where they could both see across to Echo and mark out a plan.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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