Page 11 of Chosen Path
Kimberly flashed her a cool smile. “Of course it will.”
Her eyes returned to the agenda. “So, I think we’ve finished the week’s business. I’ll post the details about Nikolas’ funeral and burial on the message board outside the post office, and I guess I’ll see you both at the church on Friday to see Nikolas off.”
“May he rest in peace,” Greg intoned.
“Mmm-hmm,” Kimberly murmured.
She watched Corrine gather up her pile of crumpled tissues and purse and scurry out of the meeting room without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance.
“She better shake that cough,” Greg said.
“I know.”
They sat in awkward silence for a moment. That seemed to be happening a lot lately—awkward silences, meaningful looks, double meanings. It was inevitable that Nikolas’ death would change the dynamic of their group, but Kimberly hadn’t anticipated things being quite so uncomfortable.
“Welp, I best get going.” Greg stood and pulled on his coat.
“You tell Wendy I said hi,” Kimberly told him.
“Will do. Give my best to Ron.”
Kimberly took her time packing up her notebook and pen, then wrapped her scarf around her neck, winding it several times before tucking the ends into her coat. The last thing she needed was to catch a cold like Corrine’s. She fished her knit cap with the pompom top out of her tote bag.
Corrine really ought to be more careful, she thought.Especially as a widow. There’s nobody to take care of her if she falls ill.
She flipped the switch to turn out the light, then left the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. She pulled her hat down over her ears, turned up her coat collar, and braced herself for the wind before she pushed open the exterior door and stepped out onto the dimly lit sidewalk.
* * *
Molly was jiggling the key in the fussy old lock on the front door of her combination medical office/home when she heard someone calling her name from across the street. She looked over her shoulder to see Kimberly Dickerson waving and yoo-hooing from in front of the municipal building.
She muttered under her breath before calling back, “Hi, Mrs. Dickerson.”
“Pardon? I didn’t catch that,” Bodhi said. He leaned against the porch railing with two reusable grocery bags in each hand, holding the provisions they’d stopped to pick up at the last decent-sized town in Canada.
Molly’s cheeks flamed. “Oh, um, I said, buzz off, you busybody.”
Bodhi quirked his lips at the admission but said nothing.
As if compelled to defend herself, she said, “You’ll see.”
He lifted an eyebrow and turned toward the street. Molly redoubled her efforts to get the door unlocked as Kimberly sprinted across Main Street in an obvious effort to catch them.
“Doctor Hart, who’s your friend?” she called, taking the steps by twos.
She joined them on the wide front porch, panting to catch her breath. Molly silently cursed the finicky lock and turned around. She pasted a smile on her lips.
“Kimberly Dickerson, this is Doctor Bodhi King. Bodhi, Mrs. Dickerson lives around the corner.”
Bodhi rested the groceries on the porch to shake Kimberly’s outstretched hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said the words with warm sincerity.
Now he’d done it.Molly suppressed a sigh.
Kimberly tittered. “The pleasure’s mine, Doctor King. We don’t get many visitors here in Scandia Bluff. Frankly, it’s a shame because we have a beautiful little village, don’t we, Doctor Hart?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Molly made the most noncommittal sound she could muster.
