Murder in the Marigolds by Dale Mayer (good books to read for 12 year olds txt) 📗

“That’s understandable,” Nan said instantly. “It’s grief.”

“Oh, Nan, I don’t think I’m a good enough person to grieve my ex-husband’s conniving little mistress.”

“But you do need to separate the emotions a bit. Grieve the loss of your marriage, the betrayal you suffered from the both of them. Only then can you move on.”

“Do you think?” Doreen asked. “I just don’t even know why I’d be grieving that marriage now.” She turned her hands, palms up. “Suffice it to say, I’m a bit confused right now.”

“Good. As long as you’re confused, and you’re honest about it, then it’s all good,” Nan replied.

Chapter 3

Saturday Midafternoon …

Doreen hoped it would work out that way, but she wasn’t so sure. It seemed like everything was topsy-turvy and upside down right now. Still, she had thoroughly enjoyed the cheese toast and then the desserts with Nan. As they walked around Rosemoor a bit, Nan filled her in on the news here. The manager had a new girlfriend, and they were all trying to figure out if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but lots of joviality filled the place. The mood was high, and it seemed like the only one upset and depressed was Doreen herself.

Shrugging it off, she visited with several of the other residents, before heading back home again. This time she decided to take the river route, hating that the fear of her last swim had affected her more than she thought. Maybe this was something she could beat. She’d loved this creek—now a swollen river—before the last attack. She wanted to love it again.

She was pleasantly surprised when she went around the corner of the block to find that the river had gone down even farther. The pathway was there, a bit soggy if she stepped too close to the river, but near the fence line it was dry enough that she could walk easily. That’s how Nan had been so comfortable going back and forth; there really had been a change in the weather, and that was lovely.

It was hard to believe it had been a crazy raging water funnel just a few days earlier, when she got dumped into it. But it was all for the good. Who knows what would have happened if the water level had been as low as it was right now? Doreen wouldn’t have floated away, and she might have been shot, like a sitting duck—and probably not just once but many times.

Dismissing that morbid thought, she did feel happier, with the animals bouncing around behind her, so delighted to be back at a favorite haunt. She accompanied them all the way back home again, then came upon her backyard, where she walked to the deck and smiled. She had her lovely rocking chair now, with a footstool, plus the table and four chairs she got from Mack. Now all she needed was another chair or two that she could utilize for the little concrete patio area. Or a small couch. Then Mack could join her outside for a longer visit.

Still, she was delighted with the things she did have, and they were continuously coming to her free, or mostly free. Trying to throw off this residual case of the blues, she made a cup of tea, taking it outside with her. As she looked around at her garden, she realized she had missed working at Millicent’s place as scheduled. And that was an income she couldn’t afford to miss. Wincing, she quickly picked up her phone and called her. When Millicent answered, Doreen immediately apologized. “Millicent, I’m so sorry,” she said, “but I missed doing your garden last week.”

It took Millicent a moment, and then she said, “Oh my, Doreen. You certainly don’t need to be worrying about my garden. That’s just foolish. You got shot, for heaven’s sake. You need to look after yourself.”

“No, no, no,” she said. “It was only a burn. I’m fine. I’m just so sorry.”

“You’ve been a little busy besides, my dear.”

“Yes, and still busy,” she muttered. “Do you want me to come today and catch up, or would you rather I just come on Friday as usual?”

“Well,” she said, “if you want to come today, it wouldn’t be a bad idea. No hard digging, maybe just catch up on those pesky weeds.”

“Perfect,” she said. “I’m in an odd mood anyway, so I’m hoping this will help get me out of it.”

“Awesome. Come on over now, if you like,” she said, then hesitated, “or do you want to come after lunch?”

“Now would be good,” she said, hopping to her feet. “I just had some treats down at Nan’s, so I’m full of energy and ready to go.”

“Oh, lovely,” she said. “I’ll put on the teakettle, just in case.” And, with that, Millicent hung up.

With an eye to her half-empty teacup, Doreen shrugged and tossed back the tea. Then she called the gang to her, grabbed her gardening gloves, and set off to Millicent’s place. Mack surely couldn’t get upset with Doreen for doing this much. It was his own mother’s garden, after all. When Doreen arrived, Millicent was already sitting outside.

She smiled and said, “I do appreciate you coming, my dear. I know you’re really busy these days. I just don’t want you to overdo it.”

“No, I’m not too busy to work,” she said. “I don’t have any income coming in, so I really can’t afford not to work.”

“Oh, dear, I sure hope those antiques come in for you soon.”

“Me too,” she muttered. “It’s just that some things had to be repaired, and Scott wanted to wait and sell it all as a full unit.” She shrugged, as if to acknowledge she couldn’t do anything about it. And she didn’t really want to push him.

“And what about your husband?”

“Oh, him,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing much to be said about him.”

“But I do understand that there was a murder, and it might involve you?”

“Don’t they all,”