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side of the church were of plain glass, but the two behind the altar were stained glass scenes of Christ’s birth and crucifixion. Norman and his brother had given them in memory of their parents. Sibyl and her cousins had paid for the piano that made the singing bearable.
    Sibyl had asked for an open casket. She and Kitty had stood next to it as what must have been every person in Cactus Corner above the age of twelve—and quite a few younger—came to offer condolences. That was fine. What she found difficult to bear was the extravagant praise being offered from the pulpit by Reverend Simpson. To hear him talk, you would have believed that Norman had been kindhearted, generous, fair, loving…it was useless to go on. He’d been none of those, and everyone in town knew it. She thought it a sacrilege to mouth such untruths about a man just because he was dead. It had to be even more difficult for Kitty to hear a man who’d treated her so brutally praised so lavishly. She unclenched her fists, took her daughter’s hand, and gave it a squeeze. Kitty didn’t look up, but she could feel her daughter’s tension ease.
    After what seemed like an eternity, Reverend Simpson brought the service to a close. The pallbearers came forward—Jared, Horace, and her cousins Ethan and Ben—to carry the casket in the procession to the cemetery. Sibyl and Kitty followed close behind. Her cousins Naomi and Laurie came to walk on either side of them.
    Laurie whispered, “It’ll soon be over.”
    Laurie understood better than anyone else. She’d been married to Noah, Norman’s brother. There hadn’t been much to choose between the two men.
    Sibyl would have been content with ashes to ashes, dust to dust , but the reverend hadn’t exhausted his bag of fulsome praise. By the time he finished the graveside service and invited the mourners back to Sibyl’s house for a collation and a chance to express their sorrow in person, she was squeezing Naomi’s hand so hard it had to hurt. But the formal part of burying Norman was almost over. Sibyl promised herself that once the last person left her house tonight, she’d never again pretend that Norman had been anything but the bastard he was.
    * * *
    Logan hadn’t intended to attend Norman Spencer’s funeral service, but the town had closed down for the occasion and he found himself swept along by the townspeople despite any protest he might offer. He couldn’t do any of the things he’d come into town to do until the reception at Mrs. Spencer’s house was over and people returned to their jobs. He didn’t really mind the delay. He was impressed that apparently everyone thought so highly of the banker. If only half of what the minister said was true, Norman Spencer must have been an outstanding man. His death would be a great loss to the community.
    His widow’s behavior appeared to support that view. She looked to be in such deep shock she was unable to show any emotion. Their daughter appeared to be in such distress she clung to her mother and the woman who walked on her other side. Coming from Chicago where he knew hundreds of people, Logan found it awkward being in a small town where his only speaking acquaintance was a teenage boy. He drifted toward Steve when the graveside service ended.
    â€œI had expected to see your uncle before now.”
    Steve recognized him immediately, but no one else did. He’d escaped through the back door before anyone else saw him. “You would have if Aunt Sibyl’s husband hadn’t been killed. Laurie’s been staying with her, which means we’ve been looking after ourselves and eating leftovers.”
    â€œWho’s Laurie?”
    â€œShe’s my uncle’s wife and Sibyl’s cousin. She’s the blond woman holding Kitty’s hand. The other woman is Naomi. She’s also Sibyl’s cousin. Colby is her husband.”
    Logan