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dollars in her bank account. Olympia was living on Social Security and Edmund’s pension. Now both of those will stop.”
    â€œBut I thought she was okay. I thought Uncle Edmund’s life insurance was covering her expenses—”
    â€œThe proceeds of your uncle’s life insurance went to cover his medical bills and funeral expenses.” Dr. Marc’s lips thinned. “I’m sure Olympia was too proud to tell you. She didn’t want you to worry about her.”
    Breathing deeply, Annie lowered her head into her hand. This was too much to absorb in one sitting. She loved Heavenly Daze, but in her teenage years the island had seemed hopelessly isolated and outdated. She’d fled Frenchman’s Fairest after her high school graduation, and until a few months ago she had tried to avoid the place whenever possible.
    But last October life had begun to teach her that maturity meant taking time to appreciate those who had opened their hearts and home to you . . . even when you didn’t appreciate them.
    Now she would own that home, a lovely, antique house that was—
    â€œAn albatross,” she murmured.
    Dr. Marc frowned. “What?”
    â€œThat poem—the one about the sailor with the bad luck bird around his neck. I wonder if this is how he felt.”
    Leaving the doctor in the kitchen, Annie stood and moved wearily toward the stairs.
    Edith wasn’t certain how, but news of Olympia’s passing had spread over the island like a grassfire. The parsonage phone had her on the run even before church. Vernie Bidderman called—could she do anything? Wasn’t it awful? Who would be next?
    Cheerful thought. Edith sighed as she hung up the receiver.
    Cleta Lansdown called a minute later, beside herself with grief: “I just talked to Olympia after supper last night. She wanted to know if I had a certain fat quarter she favored. I told her that I did have the fabric and I’d drop it by after church this afternoon.” Edith listened as emotion choked the woman’s throat. “I’ve said such hateful things about Olympia—”
    â€œOlympia wasn’t an easy woman to love,” Edith said, taking pains to keep her voice low and soothing. “We have all had unkind thoughts, but Olympia is at peace with us now, and I know she’d want us to rest easy about her.”
    â€œI don’t know—I wish I had apologized for some of the things I’ve said over the years. Now it’s too late. Micah always says we should live each day as if it were our last one, but I never realized how right he was till now.” Cleta’s voice dissolved into sobs.
    Hanging up a moment later, Edith realized that she had not been voicing meaningless platitudes. Olympia had been both friend and foe to every woman on the island at some point. She’d had a tongue sharper than a serpent’s fang and a will as stubborn as stone. But her absence would leave a gaping hole in every islander’s heart.
    Edith wandered into the bedroom and opened her closet door. The full-cut corduroy dress she’d planned to wear to church lay on the bed, but what would she wear to the funeral? Undoubtedly there’d be a few off-islanders present, maybe even some folk who had never met her. Olympia’s son was a hotshot Boston lawyer, and maybe he’d bring his wife. Edith would need to look good for Winslow’s sake.
    She stood before the rack of dresses, her gaze flitting over them until her eyes fell upon a black size eight—the stuff of distant memories. She’d paid more for that one garment than her monthly food budget at the time, but Winslow had insisted she buy the dress for a pastor’s banquet they had attended. She had looked nice that night, thin and svelte, and Winslow hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
    But she’d ingested buckets of clam chowder since then, and nothing but her shapeless winter dresses and