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we’ll be doing one for Bea at some point,” Sheila said.
    â€œOh, I shouldn’t think so,” Vera said. “They both seem content with the situation.”
    â€œSo what’s going on with the dig?” Annie asked.
    â€œThey were pulling out a lot of things that just looked like pieces of rock to me. But there was this interesting piece of rounded pottery. Who knows if it was a cup or a bowl,” Vera said. “It’s the only thing I saw that made any sense to me. And it’s been raining for two days, so, of course, they stopped. Mom hopes they’ll be back soon. Good God, she was right down there in the ditch with them.” Vera handed Annie a picture of her mother “supervising” the progress. Annie laughed.
    â€œI’m so excited. I wonder if your mom would let me bring my class by sometime this week,” said Paige, the high school history teacher. She was supposed to retire last year, but they asked if she could stay on another year.
    â€œShe’ll probably charge admission,” Sheila said with a grunt.
    â€œShe might really like that,” Vera said. “She’s now on the board at the museum and really seems to be getting into history.”
    â€œSpeaking of history,” DeeAnn interjected. “I heard a rumor about Emily McGlashen’s body.”
    â€œWhat?” Paige said.
    â€œThey say it’s still in the morgue.”
    â€œWhat?” Annie said. “I thought they finally reached her parents.”
    â€œWe all thought that,” DeeAnn said, “but evidently, there was a mix-up with the names. It was the wrong people.”
    â€œThat’s odd in this day and age,” Annie said.
    Vera’s stomach fluttered. “And sad,” she said. “I didn’t like the woman, but someone should give her a proper burial. I mean, a life is a life, and death should be handled respectfully.”
    â€œSo,” Annie said to DeeAnn, “have they found her real parents?”
    â€œI don’t know. Annie, I was hoping you could find out,” she said. “My source doesn’t know anything else.”
    â€œYour source, DeeAnn?” Vera said and smiled. “Everybody knows your favorite customer works in the morgue.”
    They all laughed. Shorty Swice came into her bakery every day and always ordered six blueberry muffins. Where does the man put it? DeeAnn often wondered.
    The funny thing was that he had a bit of a crush on DeeAnn. It was harmless, of course. She was a big-boned, happily married woman, and he a tiny man with a big appetite, as henpecked as could be by his wife, Valerie.
    Just then, there was a knock on the glass sliding door in the Sheila’s basement, which was where she held her crops. She answered the door. “Why, Detective Bryant.” Her voice went up a decibel or two.
    Vera’s eyes shot to Annie, whose face reacted by coloring pink. Annie looked at her, then looked around the table at the other women sitting there. Some were looking her way; others were twisting their necks already to see the handsome detective as he entered the room.
    â€œHow do?” he said to the group of women. “How goes the crop this evening?”
    They all murmured their separate answers.
    Vera’s heart felt like it sank into her stomach as she witnessed the discomfort of Annie. Vera was probably the only one at the table who knew about the kiss Bryant and Annie had shared and knew how tempted Annie was by this man. She had opened up to Vera one night, while they were sitting on Beatrice’s front porch together. The woman was in some turmoil. Vera wanted to tell her to hang on to her husband, the father of her children, with all her might; that it was only human to be tempted, after all; to be kind and gentle to herself. But it didn’t come out that way at all. In fact, she bumbled around the conversation. But she felt for her.
    â€œAnnie, we need to talk,”