A Midwinter's Tail by Bethany Blake

Author:Bethany Blake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

“Honestly, Daphne, I’m not sure why you’re going to this service,” my mother complained, leading the way up the steps to Walzacker’s Funeral Home, located in a lovely Greek revival building in an otherwise residential part of Sylvan Creek. The surrounding homes were all decorated for the holidays, smoke curled from most of the chimneys, and a snowman in a red scarf waved at us with twig arms from the house next door, so the setting wasn’t as grim as one might’ve expected. Stepping onto the porch, Mom stomped snow off her low-heeled Stuart Weitzman boots—a slight downgrade in terms of height and brand, in recognition of the day’s weather, which was blustery and prone to squalls. “Given that you and Celeste weren’t exactly friends, your attendance is rather morbid, don’t you think?”

“I feel a certain posthumous kinship with CeeCee, since I found her body,” I said, not bothering to remind Mom that she hadn’t known Celeste French at all. I had no idea why she was stopping by the first of several services that would commemorate CeeCee’s life. The others would be held in New York City, where CeeCee had had a penthouse, and in California, where her business was currently headquartered and where her ashes would eventually be interred, according to Gabriel’s story in the Gazette. The Sylvan Creek event was just a gathering so local people could remember her and pay their respects to her family. Following my mother through tall double doors into a large foyer, I added, “And I am here on behalf of Snowdrop.”

I hadn’t exactly meant that I was representing the poodle—although I kind of felt that way. I’d mainly meant that I hoped to find someone who might know about her future, since Jeff Updegrove had seemingly disappeared.

Of course, my mother didn’t wait for me to explain. She unfurled her favorite Burberry plaid scarf from around her neck while sighing profoundly. “You and those dogs, Daphne!”

Then she shrugged off her coat, shoved it into the arms of a man in a suit—who I didn’t think worked at the funeral home, given his look of surprise—and sashayed off into a reception room that was filled with people and rows of folding chairs. If my hunch was correct, Mom planned to offer condolences and troll for news about the fate of the planned French’s Poodles & More franchise, as related to local real estate.

Shooting the baffled bystander who continued to hold Mom’s outerwear a look of apology, I followed her, passing a white-draped table that held cards and candles and dozens of photos of CeeCee.

Then I joined the milling crowd, immediately spotting Gabriel, who was speaking with people I didn’t recognize. He hadn’t whipped out his notebook, and he didn’t have his camera, but I knew the event would yield a story.

I also spotted Jonathan, who nodded to me, but remained in conversation with Norm Alcorn. Judging from the way Maeve Templeton, Realtor, was hovering, vulture-like, I was pretty sure my mother would soon join that discussion or swoop in to monopolize Norm the moment the two men parted.

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