Page 72 of Chosen Path
Be mindful at funeral.
Find Booth and ask her
to call me, Pls.
Will do.
She sent the response, then stowed the phone in her pocket, and stood up. The swing wobbled wildly at the sudden loss of her weight. “Let’s do this,” she said in a brisk voice.
Hope fell into step beside her as they descended the stairs to the sidewalk. “Everything okay?”
Molly nodded. “Bodhi has a theory. He didn’t go into details, but he said to be mindful at the funeral.”
“Be mindful? I know you’re going to get the cold shoulder, but does he think we’re in danger?”
“I don’t think so. He wants me to have Officer Booth call him.”
Hope chewed on her lower lip.
Molly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to her. “We don’t have to walk in together. I know I’m a pariah.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s not that. Look around. We’re in Scandia Bluff, for goodness’ sake. All this talk about death and murder and stealing medication, it’s wild, right? This isn’t the way things are here.” Hope’s voice held a hint of hysteria, hiding under her disbelief.
Molly was silent for a moment before they resumed walking. Then she said, “I haven’t been here long enough to know how things usually are. But in the past six months, there’s been a lot of death.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Hope acknowledged.
They reached the corner. Pratt’s Funeral Home loomed on the opposite corner.
“Thank you for help,” Molly said suddenly.
Hope laughed. “Are you kidding?You’rethankingme?I’m the one who showed up in your office a shivering, sobbing mess. I should be thanking you.”
“You were in shock. And Iamyour doctor.”
Molly wanted to say more. In the twenty-four hours they’d spent together, Hope had gone from patient to friend. But she hesitated, unsure of how Hope would react.
Hope didn’t share her reticence. She looked directly at Molly with shining eyes.
“You’re more than just my doctor. No matter what happens with this insulin situation, I hope we’re still going to partner together on the history center. I think the village needs it. And I need it. This might sound weird, but even though we’re up to our elbows in death, this is the most alive—alive and happy—I’ve felt since before my mom died.”
Molly flushed. “I’m glad.”
“Come on. It’s poor form to be late to a funeral.”
Hope linked her elbow through Molly’s and they walked together across the street and into the funeral home.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
Kimberly chatted with Tammy Deerfield in the funeral parlor’s main hallway. She’d positioned herself carefully so she could see the new arrivals. And also so Officer Perth, who was following her around like an orphaned duckling, wasn’t in her line of sight. His constant hovering was making her nervous.
Tammy was going on and on about a trip to upstate New York that she and Burke had taken recently. Kimberly was zoning in and out of the conversation. Part of her attention was devoted to listening to Tammy’s enthusiastic description of a glass museum so she’d know when to make responsive noises, and part of her attention was split between watching the door and sensing that she was being watched by Officer Perth.
“Oh!” Kimberly interrupted Tammy’s story about a glass-blowing demonstration when Molly Hart strolled through the door, arm-in-arm with Hope Gardener.
Tammy stopped mid-sentence. “Everything okay?”
“I’m so sorry, Tammy. I have to take care of something. I’ll be right back.”
