“Why the tears?” Pamela drew her in and shut the door behind them.“I’ve missed you all,” Laurel said truthfully.Halting at the foot of the white-carpeted, marble stairs that curved upward, Pamela told her, “Miss Elizabeth is upstairs. That nice detective just left.”“Detective McDonough?”Pamela nodded. “That’s the one.”“Has any progress been made with Dad’s murder?” Laurel couldn’t stop a flare of guilt. In the past two weeks she’d barely thought of her father’s murderer.“You’ll need to ask your ...mother that.” Pamela still hadn’t started up the stairs. “What I can tell you is that we’ve made a start on packing up your father’s clothes.”Her poor mother. Laurel exchanged a long look with the housekeeper. “How is she handling it?”“Much better than I expected. How about I go and make a pot of coffee and let you see for yourself?”Upstairs, Elizabeth was kneeling on the floor beside a pile of clothes and carefully placing a folded cable-knit sweater in a box.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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