Free Broken Trust by Shannon Baker Page A

Petal, wrapped in various layers of knit and gauze.
    Petal? At her front door? Why? How did she even know where Nora lived? Weird ringed this girl like a wobbly Hula-Hoop.
    Nora pulled her inside. “Come in. It’s cold out there.”
    Petal huddled by the front door. Abbey sniffed her hand, accepted the distracted pat, and retreated to his bed. He plopped down with a grunt.
    While Nora waited for the strangeness of Petal to explain itself, she carried on with regular old politeness. “Abigail, this is Petal, a coworker. Petal, this is my mother.”
    Abigail hurried over. “Petal, how nice to meet you.”
    Petal’s eyes showed panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d have company.”
    Abigail tried to draw her into the living room. “Nonsense. Come in and sit down.”
    There goes any chance of getting the Charlie story from Abigail tonight. Nora had a big meeting tomorrow and couldn’t stay up late. She’d never outlast whatever avoidance plan Abigail cooked up.
    Petal allowed herself to be seated on the couch, still wrapped in all of her layers. “Can we get you some coffee? Or a beer? It’s all Nora has in the house or I’d offer you something to eat.”
    Petal shook her head. “I just came over to, you know, see how you are and to talk or whatever.”
    Doesn’t anyone around here think about sleep?
    Abigail retreated to the kitchen and made coffee.
    Petal curled up in one corner of the couch. She pulled off her Chacos and slipped her feet underneath her.
    Nora sat beside her. “What’s going on?” And why am I the one you want to talk to, at my house, at night, when I want to get rested for a big day and not play hostess?
    Petal drew her fingers inside the sleeves of her sweater. “I miss Darla so much.” Her voice was little more than a squeak.
    Abigail stepped around the counter from the kitchen. The coffeemaker hummed behind her. “Was Darla your dog? I’ve had dogs before and losing them can tear your heart in two. I had an adorable Bichon named Fluffer — ”
    “Mother.” Nora slammed the brakes on that runaway train . “Darla was the F inancial D irector before me.”
    “Oh.” There was a moment of silence Abigail probably couldn’t stand. “People move on, dear. I’m sure she saw career advancement and is in a better place. I suppose the Trust is a temporary stop for anyone with any ambition. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of growth potential.”
    Petal sniffed and rubbed her sleeve across her nose.
    Nora kneaded the growing pain in her temple. “Darla was found shot to death. Is the coffee done?”
    Abigail made a choking sound and a beat of silence followed. “Oh my. I’m sorry, dear. There’s nothing more painful than losing a loved one. I, myself, have buried three husbands.”
    Nora glared at her. “The coffee, Mother.”
    “Of course.” Abigail retreated to the kitchen.
    “Did you and Darla spend a lot of time together?” Nora asked.
    Petal nodded while tears dribbled out the sides of her eyes. “We were roommates. I can’t be in our space today. I see Darla everywhere.”
    Nora steeled herself from feeling Petal’s pain. She slid an arm around Petal, smelling the wet wool of her wraps, and let her cry. “I’m sorry.”
    Abigail came into the living room with a coffee mug. Petal’s hands were still mittened inside her sweater. Abigail lifted one hand and pressed the mug into it until Petal brought the other hand up to clamp the mug between them. “Here, dear. Drink this. It will warm you up.” Abigail sat on the other side of Petal. She seemed oblivious that her turquoise and orange print tunic clashed with the red fabric of the couch.
    Petal dropped her head onto Abigail’s shoulder. “Darla was special. She invited me in when I didn’t have anywhere to go. She was friends with everyone, even Fay, who can be a terrible gossip. She was even nice to Mark when he was so mean to her.”
    Abigail patted Petal’s back. “Let it out, dear. ‘Grief is a bucket