around some of the cousins any more than she had to," Birdie said. "She didn't mince words when talking about her family."
That was true. Nell thought about Pamela's less-than-pleasant descriptions of Agnes and Mary.
"I can't imagine Agnes went to the Gull, either," Birdie said.
"She probably went home. She has a lovely place over near Rockport," Nell said.
A familiar voice floated in from the busy salon.
"So, ladies, you've heard the news?"
Laura Danvers stood on the step to the service room. The young society leader's hair was separated into foil-wrapped plackets, and her narrow shoulders were draped in a smock. She held a bottle of spring water in one hand.
"Suicide--that's what they're saying."
Nell nodded.
"I've read that suicide around the holidays is not uncommon." Laura took a drink from her water bottle.
"But tragic, no matter when it happens," Birdie said.
Concern shadowed Laura's face. "Yes, of course. Absolutely tragic. But somehow we need to make sure this doesn't weigh us all down. We need to . . . to move on and get beyond this dreadful . . . happening."
"Move on?" Cass repeated.
"What I mean is, it's the holidays. It's time to be with our families and friends, to be joyous and grateful for what we have. And, well, I guess what I'm saying is that I hope all of you will still be at our holiday party tomorrow night. Elliott and I talked--and we think we need to keep to our plans--"
Laura looked genuinely sad, but determined, Nell thought. She had her mother's tenacity and diplomacy. The young civic leader would go far.
"Of course we'll be there, dear," Birdie said, easing the moment. "It will be lovely and a needed distraction."
"It's a nice idea to hold it at the historical museum. The party will bring people's attention back to one of our town's treasures," Nell said.
Izzy assured Laura that she'd be there, too, with or without Sam. She stood and picked up her bag, and Cass followed, telling Laura that she and Danny Brandley would be there--"with bells on," she added.
They were off, Izzy to the yarn shop for a busy day of classes and Christmas sales, and Cass to don her warmest wintry slicker, brave the ocean air, and check on the lobster traps that she and her brother, Pete, owned.
Nell watched them leave, wondering why Sam might not come to the party. Of course he would; he was very good about attending these affairs--even when he'd rather be off skiing or taking photographs or talking to Ben about sailboats. Sam had a knack for fitting in anywhere he went, a photographer's gift, she supposed. His awards for capturing people's raw emotion certainly spoke to the comfort and trust people placed in him.
She tucked away a reminder to ask Ben whether he knew what was up with Sam Perry.
"Pamela Pisano was going to come to the party," Laura said. Her tone changed, her voice edged with disappointment. "I invited her weeks ago when I heard she'd be in town. She was looking forward to it and was bringing a photographer to take photos of the museum and the holiday dresses. It would make a good angle for a magazine story, Pamela told me. A small-town holiday party that highlights a community landmark."
A young woman wearing a skinny skirt and clunky shoes came up behind Laura and tapped her on the shoulder. "Time to rinse," she said with a cheery smile.
Laura turned to follow her, then looked back and said sadly, "She even told me what she was going to wear--a new Versace."
Nell watched the young woman walk back into the maze of hair dryers, mirrors, and rotating chairs.
Of course. That was it--the cause for the regret and slight irritation she had heard in Laura's voice. She wasn't coldhearted. But it would have been an amazing coup for her party to be featured in Pamela's popular national magazine, not to mention the attention it would bring to the museum. It was a huge disappointment to Laura, even in light of the tragic circumstances that would prevent it from happening.
A waving hand called
That was true. Nell thought about Pamela's less-than-pleasant descriptions of Agnes and Mary.
"I can't imagine Agnes went to the Gull, either," Birdie said.
"She probably went home. She has a lovely place over near Rockport," Nell said.
A familiar voice floated in from the busy salon.
"So, ladies, you've heard the news?"
Laura Danvers stood on the step to the service room. The young society leader's hair was separated into foil-wrapped plackets, and her narrow shoulders were draped in a smock. She held a bottle of spring water in one hand.
"Suicide--that's what they're saying."
Nell nodded.
"I've read that suicide around the holidays is not uncommon." Laura took a drink from her water bottle.
"But tragic, no matter when it happens," Birdie said.
Concern shadowed Laura's face. "Yes, of course. Absolutely tragic. But somehow we need to make sure this doesn't weigh us all down. We need to . . . to move on and get beyond this dreadful . . . happening."
"Move on?" Cass repeated.
"What I mean is, it's the holidays. It's time to be with our families and friends, to be joyous and grateful for what we have. And, well, I guess what I'm saying is that I hope all of you will still be at our holiday party tomorrow night. Elliott and I talked--and we think we need to keep to our plans--"
Laura looked genuinely sad, but determined, Nell thought. She had her mother's tenacity and diplomacy. The young civic leader would go far.
"Of course we'll be there, dear," Birdie said, easing the moment. "It will be lovely and a needed distraction."
"It's a nice idea to hold it at the historical museum. The party will bring people's attention back to one of our town's treasures," Nell said.
Izzy assured Laura that she'd be there, too, with or without Sam. She stood and picked up her bag, and Cass followed, telling Laura that she and Danny Brandley would be there--"with bells on," she added.
They were off, Izzy to the yarn shop for a busy day of classes and Christmas sales, and Cass to don her warmest wintry slicker, brave the ocean air, and check on the lobster traps that she and her brother, Pete, owned.
Nell watched them leave, wondering why Sam might not come to the party. Of course he would; he was very good about attending these affairs--even when he'd rather be off skiing or taking photographs or talking to Ben about sailboats. Sam had a knack for fitting in anywhere he went, a photographer's gift, she supposed. His awards for capturing people's raw emotion certainly spoke to the comfort and trust people placed in him.
She tucked away a reminder to ask Ben whether he knew what was up with Sam Perry.
"Pamela Pisano was going to come to the party," Laura said. Her tone changed, her voice edged with disappointment. "I invited her weeks ago when I heard she'd be in town. She was looking forward to it and was bringing a photographer to take photos of the museum and the holiday dresses. It would make a good angle for a magazine story, Pamela told me. A small-town holiday party that highlights a community landmark."
A young woman wearing a skinny skirt and clunky shoes came up behind Laura and tapped her on the shoulder. "Time to rinse," she said with a cheery smile.
Laura turned to follow her, then looked back and said sadly, "She even told me what she was going to wear--a new Versace."
Nell watched the young woman walk back into the maze of hair dryers, mirrors, and rotating chairs.
Of course. That was it--the cause for the regret and slight irritation she had heard in Laura's voice. She wasn't coldhearted. But it would have been an amazing coup for her party to be featured in Pamela's popular national magazine, not to mention the attention it would bring to the museum. It was a huge disappointment to Laura, even in light of the tragic circumstances that would prevent it from happening.
A waving hand called
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