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her, someone she mattered to and who cared about what happened in her life. She dialed Chelsea’s number.
    “Hello.”
    At the sound of the familiar voice, Janet’s resolve broke like an earthen dam after a downpour. “She’s gone, Chels,” she sobbed into the receiver. “Grandmother’s dead.”
    “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Can I come up and be with you?”
    “Huh-uh. Stay there. You’ll be needed at the library. Miss Austin has already tried the guilt trip on me for being off these extra days.”
    “She would,” Chelsea hissed. “I hope you didn’t pay any attention to her.”
    In the way of an answer, Janet snuffled and swiped her nose with the heel of her hand.
    “Are you going to be okay?” asked Chelsea.
    “Eventually. I guess I just needed to let go.”
    “She was all the family you had. Don’t apologize.”
    “But she wasn’t, Chelsea.”
    “Wasn’t what?”
    “All the family I had,” Janet said. “Just wait ’til you hear the story.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Not now. I’ll call you soon as I get home.”
    “In the meantime Janet, if you need to talk you know my number.”
    “Lord girlfriend, what a lifesaver you are. I’ve got to go for now. See you soon.”
    Janet hung up and reached for a tissue.
     
    The day of the funeral was most disagreeable. It reminded Janet of the day her parents were buried, and she wondered if any Lancaster had ever been laid to rest beneath a sunny sky. Certainly not today, as the cold rain was whipped by a violent wind coming in off the ocean. The small company, numbering little more than a dozen, stood on the perimeter of the grave. Ethan Chandler, the chairman of the library board, stood tall and regal. Janet thought about her grandmother’s offer to call him to ask for an increase in her salary. She wondered what he would’ve said. Being a man of unquestioned integrity—in spite of his high-priced attorney status—he was a stickler for precedent and the precise order of things. He would’ve found a way to refuse the wishes of the determined Elizabeth Lancaster and even have her end up agreeing with him.
    Household servants, faithful to the end, withstood the onslaught of the weather with their usual dignity. Mentally, Janet rushed the minister forward in his eulogy. Cold began to seep through her leather gloves and sting her fingers. She shifted her feet on the hard ground and felt only numbness. To take her mind off the cold, Janet turned her attention to Lettie, standing stiff and proper beside her husband. Janet wondered what the woman might be thinking. Over the years her attendance to her charge had been nothing short of total devotion.
    Elizabeth Lancaster had not been an easy woman to live with. For Janet, growing up at Heather Down often proved difficult. Much was expected of her, and many times, she feared, she had fallen way short of the mark. Her grandparents had planned for her to attend Harvard School of Law and follow in the footsteps of her father. But the prospect of years of diligent study and dedication failed to attract Janet in the least, and she was forced to oppose the two of them—a formidable task, to say the least—for the first time in her young life. Dropping out of college after only two short years of working toward a liberal arts degree, Janet informed them that she was as much a liberal as she cared to be and could see no reason to continue wasting her time and their money. She mulled over the possibility of going away to Baltimore to study art, but decided they would only want to change her style and tinker around with her technique, so that idea was deep-sixed almost immediately. When she ended up going to work at the library, her grandparents accepted her decision and were appeased to a certain degree.
    The minister’s voice brought Janet back to the present.
    “…and may God gather you in his loving arms and keep you safe always. Amen.”
    The service was over and the small procession hurried to