Pulled out of her reverie, Rosa smiled at the familiar figure, older now, and rounder in the face and the hips. The Forrester family’s long-standing housekeeper had smooth brown skin, sparkling dark eyes, and long black hair now showing some gray and tied back in a bun. She carried a tray set with a small silver coffee urn and containers for cream and sugar, which she lowered onto the table next to Rosa.
“Buenos dias, señorita!”
“Buenos dias.”
The housekeeper’s gaze dropped to Rosa’s bowl of cereal sitting on the table. “I’m glad you enjoy my granola, Miss Rosa.”
“It’s the best.”
Señora Gomez cupped her hands at her waist and studied Rosa with an appraising look. “Look at you. Una mujer muy hermosa! A very beautiful woman! Si?”
Rosa laughed, well aware that her face was bare and her hair mussed and unbrushed.
Despite this, the housekeeper gushed, “Oh, señorita, you will have every young man in Santa Bonita at your command, no? So slender. Maybe too slender, no? No matter. Muy bien. I heard about what happened in London, you don’t worry about anything. I'll take care of you. My cooking has healed broken hearts before.” She gave Rosa’s cheek a pinch. Something she used to do often.
For a moment, Rosa felt fifteen again.
“Please enjoy your coffee, Miss Rosa. Mrs. Hartigan is on her way out to visit with you.” She smiled warmly, lifted Rosa’s empty granola bowl, then turned back towards the house.
Rosa took off her slippers and padded over to the pool, bent down to sit on the edge, and dipped her feet in the warm, clear water.
“Good morning, Rosa,” her grandmother said, her Bostonian accent filtering through. Rosa smiled over her shoulder toward the voice. Her grandmother, Sally Hartigan, had grown frailer over the last eleven years, but as a lady in her eighth decade, she still carried herself with a certain grace. Wearing a simple summer dress in a good-quality floral print cotton that hugged her ample bosom and the plump curves of her hips, she slowly made her way from the house to the pool area.
Rosa clasped the elderly woman’s wrinkled hand. “Did you sleep well, Grandma Sally?”
Rosa had mistakenly called Sally Hartigan ”Grandmother”, and had been firmly admonished and accused of being “thoroughly British”.
Sally Hartigan wasn’t Rosa’s grandmother by blood. She had been her maternal grandfather’s second wife, and stepmother to Rosa’s mother, Ginger.
“I slept. I'm getting old, of course, but that can’t be avoided.”
Rosa helped her get seated at the patio table and then sat across from her. Grandma Sally pursed her lined lips, and the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “I’m desperately curious, you know, and I hope you’ve been here long enough that I’m not violating social protocol—I know how important that is to you Brits—but could you tell me what happened?”
About the death the night before? Rosa felt her expression crinkle in confusion. How was asking about that breaking protocol? Perhaps the elderly lady’s mind was slipping.
As if she could read Rosa’s mind, Grandma Sally snorted. “About your nuptials. I'm sorry I couldn’t make the journey to London, it’s a bit much for these old bones, but . . . can you tell me what happened?”
Rosa sighed, leaned back in her chair, and let her arms drop loosely on her lap. Oh, that.
Her grandmother didn’t seem to notice her obvious reluctance, or if she did, dismissed it out of hand. She pressed on, “It seemed like such a good match, you and that Lord Winston Eveleigh fellow. I mean, I know your mother had certain reservations bu—”
“My mother was right,” Rosa interrupted. “I should have taken more heed of her advice. I almost made a huge mistake, Grandma Sally. I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Disappointment flashed behind her grandmother’s watery blue eyes. “Of course.” She sat back, straightened as much as one with aged shoulders such as she had, could. “I understand, dear. Well, maybe time spent breathing in the Pacific air will help you put it all behind you.”
“I hope so.” Rosa felt bad about not giving her grandmother what she wanted. Perhaps she’d be enticed by a possible murder investigation.
“Did you hear about last night?”
Grandma Sally lowered her chin. “Louisa told me all about it when she got in. I couldn’t sleep, so I made the mistake of coming down into the kitchen just as she got home. She was upset. Terrible, just terrible. To think this kind of thing could happen in this little town. Now Boston, that’s a different story.” Grandma Sally’s gaze drifted to the distance, and the subtle smile that pulled on her wrinkled lips made Rosa believe the elderly lady had more fond memories of New England than not.
“I don’t really remember Aunt Louisa being involved in charity work when I was here last time,” Rosa said. Uncharitably, Rosa wouldn’t have pegged her aunt as the philanthropist type.
“Well, that was during the war, mind you. There were lots of other things going on. But yes, organizing charity drives has become a new passion of hers—unlikely as it sounds. Though they don’t seem to last long. There was the Santa Bonita Society for the Preservation of Animals which she raved about until a puppy peed in her lap at a rally.” Grandma Sally’s lined lips tugged up into a grin as she recalled the incident.
“Yes, that was the end of that. Then there was the Society for Santa Bonita Public Library, but that ended over a disagreement she had with the head librarian, Miss Cumberbatch.”
Rosa’s mind stuttered at Grandma Sally’s innocent mention of the local library. It was the one place in Santa Bonita that—despite Rosa’s love of reading and discovering intriguing bits of trivia—she’d vowed never to step foot into again. Her memories and emotions attached to that place and the park it nestled against were too strong, and she had Miguel to blame for that.
“… after that, she took over as president of the local Rotary Club…”
Rosa blinked forcing her mind
