She couldn’t help memories of her dad’s service creeping into her head. She’d been so distraught her teeth chattered and her whole body shook. Afterward, Liv tried to blank out the agony and memories of that heartbreaking time. The anticipation of attending a funeral could still bring a knot to her throat and her emotions bubbling to the surface.

As she made her way past rows of wooden benches, she couldn’t stop tears from rolling down her cheeks and dropping off her nose. Inside her head, she heard Essie’s voice, heavy with exasperation. “You’re not crying are you, Olivia? Please use a handkerchief.”

Liv had washed the bee-printed one Anthony had given her, and wiped it across her face, soaking it again. Her insides tangled with feelings—sadness mixed with disbelief, and a flash of anger that Essie had vanished from her life, just as they were getting to know each other. Her death felt like a stab to her heart that would always leave a jagged scar.

The thought of never reading a new Georgia Rory novel made her feel like she was tumbling down a hill, unable to stop. She’d never again experience the joy of carrying a copy home from the bookstore in a small, shiny bag, or sinking into a fresh story.

Liv could also imagine the earthquake of shock that would hit Essie’s fans when they found out the terrible news five and a half months from now. She was sure they’d experience her same feelings of disbelief and loss.

Not feeling ready to say goodbye, she selected a bench and sat down with a stiff back. A few folded pieces of paper for Essie’s service lay around, and she picked one up.

In Memory of Elsbeth Smart...

For a second, Liv thought she’d stepped into the wrong service until she saw the black-and-white shot of Essie. It was one she hadn’t seen before. Essie Starling must be her pen name, she realized.

If Essie’s death was registered under a different name, she supposed others wouldn’t recognize it. Maybe the hospital staff hadn’t even known they were operating on a bestselling author.

When Liv heard someone else enter the room, she glanced up to see Anthony appear at her side. His lips were tight and his eyes were watery. She wondered if solicitors usually got this emotionally attached to their clients.

“Hi,” she said, as he sat down next to her.

“Hello, again.”

She handed him a service sheet. “I didn’t know Essie’s real name, did you? Elsbeth is so pretty.”

“Yes, I created the document.”

Liv paused at this. Wouldn’t the funeral service people usually do that? It was beautifully done, maybe part of Anthony’s mission to keep things private.