Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 03 - In Good Faith by Catharine Bramkamp Read Free Book Online Page A

mentioned briefly. In Chris Connor’s daily column, Beverley’s good works were highlighted in glowing terms.  I suppose that was the right approach. I do admire the new trend in reporting, where the media does not give the random terrorist or disturbed gunman too much publicity, as it seems to play directly into the person’s reasons for the action in the first place. 
    The funeral was scheduled for Wednesday, and there were only twenty-one more shopping days left until Christmas.
    I scanned the paper again. Sometimes I read too fast. I’m so accustomed to already knowing most of what I read: standardized forms, the same financial news, the same war reportage, the same disclaimers from politicians, that I skim right over the words and sometimes miss something. Accident?
     
    I did not attend the funeral, figuring the new girlfriend attending the ex-wife’s funeral was tacky.
    I knew Ben took Emily, and no, I did not get any feedback from him as to his grandmother’s reaction or impression of “yours truly”. I didn’t expect the man to have a heart to heart talk with his grandmother, nor did I expect him to express his feelings. I’m not that naïve.  A word, an acknowledgment, a brief “Emily through your shoes were nice and you have nice teeth”, would have been helpful.  But it was not to be.
    The obituary in the paper was as effusive as Connor’s article and listed all of Beverley’s good works with direct quotes about how lovely and giving she was. Some of the quotes were lifted directly from Chris O’Connor’s article. The cause of death was not included in the obit.
    “It was tragic.”  Carrie waved her hand in an excellent impersonation of Martha Anderson, one of the big, and by that I mean an even larger circumference than me, philanthropists in Rivers Bend.
    “It was ALLL so Tragic.” Carrie drawled.  “The whole funeral was all about the,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “tragedy of it all.  She was so young.”
    Carrie was on a roll, and I had to give her credit. She imitated the second most formidable woman in town with a certain panache.
    I leaned back and surveyed the restaurant. It was a Thursday afternoon, and not terribly crowded. The windows of the enclosed patio opened to the vineyards. A few tenacious leaves hung to the bare twisted vines. The vines were beautiful in a stark, artistic way, even in the low light of December. That’s why guests are so willing to pay the high entree prices at this restaurant; it’s beautiful.
    “Are you and Patrick taking acting lessons or something?  That was really good.”
    “No.” She lowered her voice to her normal tones. “Since we quit the personal trainer nonsense, we’ve been looking for something to work on together that we both can agree is a good use of our time.”
    Carrie won Patrick Sullivan in a fair fight; actually there was no fight at all. Once the young Mr. Sullivan, scion of the Cooper Milk fortune, took one look at Carrie Elliot of the less-said-the-better-Eliots, he was a goner. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.
    “What about those lectures?” I asked.
    She sighed and picked up her hamburger, allowing me to snag a half dozen fries. “I was getting kind of fond of those JC lectures, but they don’t schedule them during the holidays.”
    “People are busy.”
    “Well, I guess we’re busy. We have a bunch of parties to attend from now until Christmas, I have your sister-in-law ’s party on my calendar, should I bring Patrick? How is Richard holding up?”
    “ Yes you should, he can slum for one evening. Richard is fine, so far. Thanksgiving was pretty calm. Richard won’t over indulge at the club, he meets too many old high school friends there.”
    She nodded . “What do you think will happen during Christmas?”
    “ I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I have no idea why Debbie insists on organizing a home grown family Christmas.”
    “ Maybe she’s tired of the country club