The Ghost and the Muse by Bobbi Holmes & Anna J. McIntyre

Author:Bobbi Holmes & Anna J. McIntyre [Holmes, Bobbi & McIntyre, Anna J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01HUFD73Y
Publisher: Robeth Publishing, LLC
Published: 2016-09-29T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-One

Bright yellow paint had recently been brushed over the clapboard siding of Marie’s bungalow and fresh white paint over its trim. It was the same color the house had been before the painters had arrived on Monday. Yet now it was clean and fresh, a fitting setting for Marie’s flowers, which were already starting to bloom.

It was still too chilly to have their lunch outside, so Marie had set a table in her sitting room. She used her mother’s Rosenthal Bavarian china luncheon plates. Trimmed in gold—purple pansies, gold and purple roses and other fanciful blossoms and foliage adorned the edges of the octagonal plates. Crystal goblets were already filled with iced tea, each garnished with lemon slices, while the luncheon plates waited for slices of warm quiche, and tiny bowls—from the same set of Bavarian china—sat at the head of each setting, each filled with fresh cut fruit.

“This looks beautiful,” Danielle said as she took a seat at the small table. The first thing she noticed was the colorful bouquet of flowers tucked in a sterling silver pitcher at the center of the table. Gently removing the cloth napkin from its place under the fork on the left side of her octagonal luncheon plate, she placed it on her lap as she watched Marie dish up a slice of quiche and set it on her plate.

“It’s spinach and ham,” Marie explained.

“Oh my, you made quiche?”

Marie chuckled and scooped up a slice for herself. “I warmed it up. Adam picked it up for me this morning from Old Salts Bakery.”

“Yum. I’ve never had their quiche before. But if it’s anything like their cinnamon rolls…”

Marie set the plate with the remaining quiche on a hot pad she had already placed on the table and then took her seat across from Danielle.

“It’s the only way to bake,” Marie said as she picked up her tea. “Order from Old Salts!”

Danielle smiled and then took a bite.

“I still can’t believe about Steve Klein.” Marie shook her head and took a sip of tea. “And Hillary Hemingway too? The same night!”

“A week ago today, assuming Hillary passed away on Thursday night and not early Friday morning,” Danielle said, taking another bite. “This is really delicious.”

Marie nodded to the plate of extra quiche. “There’s plenty more.”

“Thanks. Your house looks great, by the way. Adam mentioned you were having it painted.”

“I’m just glad it’s done. I was a little concerned about the rain, but it all worked out. So you don’t have any guests staying with you right now?”

“No. We’ve been having some issues with the furnace. We decided to have it replaced after Hillary left. She was supposed to check out on Friday morning—the morning we found her.”

“The poor dear definitely checked out.”

Danielle cringed and speared another bite of quiche with her fork. “It was a shock, that’s for sure. But she went peacefully. I suppose that’s what we all want.”

Marie looked over at Danielle and smiled. “Perhaps, when you get to be my age. But

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