On Temporary Terms by Janice Maynard

Author:Janice Maynard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-04-03T18:01:01+00:00

Eleven

Later that day, Abby fetched a cup of water and as unobtrusively as possible, handed it to Duncan. He accepted the drink with a grateful, intimate smile, downed it quickly, and turned back to his duties in the receiving line with almost no interruption. He’d been on his feet doing this for an hour already, yet the line was still out the door and down the sidewalk.

He was dressed simply but elegantly in a hand-tailored black suit that fit his tall, athletic frame perfectly. The only note of color about his appearance was a jaunty red bow tie. He had insisted that his grandmother wouldn’t have wanted everything today to be doom and gloom, so he had worn the pop of crimson in her honor.

Abby leaned in and whispered quietly. “The next couple is the mayor and his wife. She owns the local diner.”

Duncan didn’t miss a beat. He greeted the man and woman with a warm smile and words of thanks for their presence. Abby didn’t know if it was the Scottish accent, or the combo of tall, dark and handsome, or simply the fact that curiosity had won out, but it seemed that everyone in town had come to pay their respects to Isobel Stewart and to extend condolences to her extraordinarily charismatic grandson.

Duncan had decided on an open casket. Miss Isobel looked sweet and serene as people filed past her with tears and smiles. Abby suspected that the spirited old woman would have been mightily pleased.

Geoffrey and Isobel had been longtime members of the First Presbyterian Church of Candlewick. The church was small. Well-worn wooden pews provided seating for eighty worshippers, maybe a hundred if folks squeezed together.

The turnout for today’s funeral service was well over twice that number. Mourners were being seated in the choir loft and in a series of folding metal chairs rapidly produced from some other area of the church.

Fortunately, the building did not have ornate stained glass windows. The smaller, tinted-glass panes opened outward to catch the afternoon breeze. Even so, the sanctuary was sweltering. Though the obituary had requested donations be made to charity in lieu of flowers, the entire staff of Stewart Properties had pitched in together for an enormous arrangement of bronze and golden-yellow mums, Miss Izzy’s favorite flowers.

The service was slated to begin in less than thirty minutes. Soon, the funeral home staff would begin courteously but firmly cutting off the line so that Duncan could take his place for the service. Abby did not feel entirely comfortable about the prospect of being seated in the front row beside him.

Her position at his elbow had elicited stares and hushed, gossipy whispers. She bore the scrutiny with as much grace as she could. Today was about Duncan and his comfort and well-being. Abby’s reputation could handle the fallout.

When there were only a handful of people still waiting to speak to Isobel’s grandson, she made a mad dash for the restroom. On her way out, she ran into Lara.

Her friend gave her a hug.

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