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Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Everyone loves the ladies of Covington!
  3. Also by Joan Medlicott
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Acknowledgments
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  53. Discussion Questions

The hubbub continued for days as report after report came in. Men discussed it over coffee at the diner; women chatted while pushing shopping carts at the market. Pastor Denny invited an attorney from the police department in Asheville to visit the church on Sunday afternoon to educate everyone concerning scams and to provide information that would arm them against future scammers. “Scammed” and “scammer,” words hardly included in anyone’s vocabulary in Covington, became household words.

“Are you going to go to the meeting?” Grace asked her housemates.

Amelia shook her head. “I’m not. I bet nobody comes.”

“I think a lot of folks will come to the meeting. I’m going to go. I want to hear what the speaker has to say. The more we know about this kind of thing, the better off we are,” Grace said. “Hannah and Max are going. I ran into Miriam and she said she wanted to go.”

Amelia again shook her head. “You can tell me about it. I’m taking Sadie to the nature center Sunday afternoon, and I won’t break my date with Sadie.” She adored the child. This was the grandchild she had never had, and a day did not pass that Amelia did not offer a prayer of thanks for Miriam and Sadie coming to Covington.

24

The Meeting

The turnout for the meeting exceeded Denny Ledbetter’s expectations. People walked across the street and down the road from their homes on Cove Road, their condos in Loring Valley, their farmhouses and bungalows in McCorkle Creek. They drove from Barnardsville, Marshall, Hot Springs, and Wolf Laurel, and their cars, pickups, and SUVs lined Cove Road and spilled onto lawns and into anyone’s unoccupied driveway. They crammed into pews and occupied folding chairs set up in side aisles and at the rear of the church. The vestibule doors were secured open and the vestibule crammed with chairs, and still there were more attendees than seats.

Marsha Shortell, attorney and victims’ advocate for the Asheville Police Department, was tall and attractive. She stood behind a long table piled with stacks of papers. After introductions, she wasted no time, and speaking in a clear, firm voice, launched into her talk.