that their feet had even hit the ground. Annie explained to them what part of the playground they were allowed to play on—“Don’t go past the swing sets. Do you understand?”
She sat down on a bench and watched the boys play on the swings. Another woman sat down beside her. She pulled out bags of snacks and drinks, which made Annie feel a little unprepared. She made eye contact with her and smiled, then looked away. Her heart skipped a beat. Damn, if this woman doesn’t look like Maggie Rae. Annie glanced at the children, who were filing onto the playground. Yes, she thought, they were Maggie Rae’s children.
“Excuse me, do I know you?” Annie managed to say.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t think so.” The woman smiled. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. “I’m just in town for the funeral, and things.”
“Maggie Rae?”
The woman nodded her head and looked away, toward the children.
“My sister,” she said hoarsely. “I’m Tina Sue.”
“Oh,” Annie said, drawing in a breath. “I didn’t know her well, but I am so sorry.”
Her boys’ laughter filled the air, along with the creaking of the swings. Maggie’s three children were each on a swing—none were smiling.
“I thought I’d try to get them out of the house for a while,” she whispered, her voice quavering. Her lavender winter coat made a crinkling sound as she reached up to blow her nose. “The baby ... is sick. I left her with my mom.”
Yes, the woman was clearly distraught, and she looked a lot like Maggie Rae. However, she was not as thin as her sister—or as pretty. Her ski jacket looked about twenty years out of style. She looked like a puffy, haggard version of Maggie Rae. Same doelike brown eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun. She was in bright colors—the lavender ski jacket, dusty rose jeans, and her fingernails were even painted a bright pink. Funny, Annie didn’t realize until now that every time she’d seen Maggie Rae, the woman had been in black or very dark blue. In contrast, her sister was all color coming at you.
A large, dark man emerged from what Annie assumed was Tina Sue’s car. A brooding presence walking up to the bench. Annie glanced at him and smiled. He looked away quickly, sticking his hands in the pocket of his camouflage jacket. This must be her husband. Tina Sue hadn’t realized he was standing behind her yet.
“Will they stay with you, then?” Annie asked, immediately sorry that she had. The man looked at her—and she almost gasped as his hand went to Tina Sue’s shoulder. The gesture was a silencing one.
Tina Sue looked daggers at her. “Are you kidding? He won’t let them go. He won’t let them go.”
“Oh, well, ” Annie said, feeling as if she had stepped into a snare. “Of course not—they are his kids. But I remember Maggie Rae saying he travels a lot for work. Who will take care of them?”
The woman looked at her, but without meeting her eyes. Then she started to say something, but instead looked at the man and shrugged, lifting her hand up as if perplexed. Annie noticed how red Tina Sue’s hands were, as if she had been cleaning or gardening hard.
Annie’s thoughts were interrupted by Ben’s screams. He had fallen off the swing. She ran to get him, and wrapped him in her arms and calmed him down.
When Ben’s cries finally subsided, she looked up, and they were all gone. All of them, leaving Annie with another odd feeling as she watched the empty swings still moving.
Chapter 10
After Vera said good night to Beatrice at the hospital, she hurried over to Sheila’s home—where all of the other scrapbookers were.
She walked in through the glass sliding door in the basement and saw Annie looking over Sheila’s shelves. She was wide-eyed and in awe of it.
Scrapbooks were coded by color and stacked neatly on the metal shelves. Plastic containers held colorful pens, markers, and cutting tools. Other shelves were stacked with paper. Once again, coded by
Lynsay Sands
Sophie Stern
Karen Harbaugh
John C. Wohlstetter
Ann Cleeves
Laura Lippman
BWWM Club, Tyra Small
Charlene Weir
Madison Daniel
Matt Christopher