Once upon a time, years ago, Betsy had been a morning person. She had, as she told her sister, “gotten over that.” But now she felt almost as if she were back in her twenties, when merely waking up meant a clear mind and high hopes for the new day.

And it was not cockeyed optimism here and now. Terrible as things were, they were not as bad as she had thought. There was hope, there was even a chance for future joy.

What a sad, blind mess she’d been! It was as if Margot’s death had plunged her into deep, murky water, where she’d paddled unseeing, unable to find the bottom with her feet, afraid all those around her wished her ill—when all the while the bottom was solid beneath her feet, and she’d been surrounded by people who wanted to be her friends, if only for Margot’s sake.

Margot was dead. Her kind and talented sister had been cruelly murdered, reduced to gray ashes, put into a beautiful jar, and buried in the same grave that held her beloved Aaron. Someday the jar would break, and her ashes would wash down through the soil to mingle with Aaron’s.

Maybe she could think of an epitaph to put on the stone that would evoke that thought.

Probably she could afford to do that. Shelly and Jill had been emphatically sure of it.

She sat up and fumbled on the floor with her toes for her slippers. According to Jill and Shelly, those few thousand dollars Betsy had found in Margot’s checking accounts were small indicators of a sizable money source. Jill said Margot’s late husband had left her very well-off. Shelly said she’d chosen to live in this modest apartment because it was convenient to the shop, that she had sold a fine big house because it was too big and too much trouble for just her.

So Penberthy had better be first on the agenda today. He could confirm the size of the estate—and more importantly, how to get hold of some of it, to pay bills and rent and Sophie’s medical bills, and buy food. Betsy couldn’t live on Shelly’s no-longer-hot dish forever.

There was a little bread left, and coffee; she would make toast for breakfast. Then she would call Mr. Penberthy, and apologize for her behavior the other night. And ask how soon she could see him.

And after that, she would go visit Sophie, who was going to be fine. Maybe even bring her home.

Hud Earlie leaned back in the comfortably padded executive chair in his office and thought for a while.