Free Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case by Nancy Haddock Page B

Lamberts’?”
    “The last one on the right. It’s blue with white shutters on all the windows. Jane’s a bit of a nut about shutters, and John indulged her.”
    I had to smile because I imagined Sherry’s husband, Bill, had indulged her, too.
    We continued strolling past the south side of the cemetery to the gate on the east side, not far from the woods between Sherry’s land and the street behind her house. The azalea bushes at the gate were trimmed back to allow access, and the cemetery was so well maintained, the hinges didn’t even squeak as we entered. An oak tree outside the fence spread its limbs over the upright, mostly modestly sized markers. Tombstones were engraved with names and dates and short epitaphs that Sherry didn’t need to read.
    “I’ve known each grave by heart since I was a tyke,” she told me. “In fact, I taught your momma about the Stanton ancestors.”
    With that, Sherry reeled off names and family history. Samuel, his family torn apart by the Civil War, had survived the battles to move his wife, Yvonne, and their children to southwest Arkansas. Samuel had bought a huge tract of land from a widow named Hendrix, then he and Yvonne founded Lilyvale, named after Yvonne’s favorite flower. Sherry made the past come alive as she shared more stories of Stanton descendants, both those who had lived long lives on the land and those who had died young. Two American flags represented Stanton boys who’d died in World War I but had been buried overseas.
    I absorbed her enthusiasm as much as the stories. It didn’t even bother me when she expressed her hope that I’d want to keep the property. Much. And, okay, I diverted her attention with questions.
    “Why are there only twenty graves? It seems like there should be more.”
    “Samuel laid out the cemetery for thirty plots, but some of the Stanton clan moved away, as people do. Then, too, burials had to stop along about 1925 after Lilyvale annexed part of Stanton land.”
    “The same time your granddad sold off land?” I asked.
    “Yes,” she said on a sigh. “After that, family started being buried in the city cemetery. Sissy was the only original Stanton child who lived here most of her eighty-nine years but had to be buried in the city cemetery because of the annexing. She ordered markers for herself and her husband, Josiah, to be put in here so she’d be with family.”
    “Is that why the stones read ‘in memory of’?”
    “It is. Sissy had memory markers made and installed for my great-grandparents, too. She even left a trust for things like upkeep of the markers. I paid to add the stones for my mother and dad, your grandparents. I think it’s nice to see their names with the rest of the family.”
    “It’s lovely, Sherry, but did you say Sissy lived to almost ninety? When was she born?”
    “Long about 1860, if I remember right. Sissy was some kind of character. A feisty go-getter, rather like you.”
    I sidestepped that comment and pointed at the three-foot-high angel on a short pedestal spreading its wings over the small markers in the children’s section. Four graves were grouped slightly apart from the rest.
    “What about these graves in the children’s area, Sherry? You didn’t mention any McAdoos on the family tree.”
    “The family legend is that the McAdoos were passing through when their children died from influenza. Samuel and Yvonne had just lost their little Vera, so they offered plots and gravestones to the McAdoo parents. The parents accepted, and they stayed for a few months to work for Samuel, but they moved on to Texas. I guess they couldn’t bear being reminded of their loss.”
    When Sherry’s family stories wound down, I wanted to stroll in the wooded area behind the house. The tree house my mother had fondly recalled was long gone, but I enjoyed the soft wind singing through the trees.
    We didn’t go far, though. The path was somewhat overgrown with low bushes and young trees. I stopped and