Free The Graves of the Guilty (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 3) by Ellery Adams Page A

scarves. Selecting a lavender cap, she stroked the soft material and then carried it over to a mirror and put it on. She was pleased that the material covered her entire head, obscuring her hair entirely.
    Trish is going to get cold without her thick hair, she thought and placed the cap and the matching scarf and gloves into the cart. After a moment’s hesitation, she added a turquoise set for herself.
    Her shopping completed, Grammy was now in a great hurry to get back home. Apparently, one of her favorite Spencer Tracy films was coming on at one o’clock and she wanted to eat her lunch and be “good and settled” on the sofa with her cashmere blanket and Little Boy before the movie started.
    The second they reached the front of the predictably long checkout line, Grammy stamped her feet and sighed in annoyance over the cashier’s lackadaisical movements.
    “I’ve seen slugs with more get-up-and-go,” she complained too loudly.
    Cooper shushed her and started unloading the cart. As she did so, Grammy reached out and grabbed the lavender fleece cap from her hand. “You don’t usually wear this shade.”
    “It’s not for me.” Cooper explained that Trish had breast cancer and, because of the chemotherapy, was losing her hair. “She’s asked us to come to her house tomorrow because she’s ready to shave it all off. I figured she’d really feel the chill without something warm on her head.”
    Grammy studied Cooper’s face. “You’re real worried about your friend, aren’t you? Don’t worry, girlie. Love’ll see her through.” She cradled the lavender cap gently in her hands and then brought it to her face, murmuring into the fabric. Cooper heard her say, “Lord, let Trish dwell in Your shelter. Be her refuge, her fortress, her covering, her shield. Command Your angels to guard her. Amen.” Cooper quickly looked away so that Grammy wouldn’t see her tears, but her grandmother had turned her attention to the candy displays lining the checkout aisle. “I’m havin’ a Baby Ruth. After all, you never know when you’re going to draw your last breath.”
     Earl reappeared in time to catch his mother’s last line. He smiled at Cooper. “She’s a tough nut, your grandma, but I love her more than my new socket wrench.”
    Trailing her father and grandmother to the car, Cooper felt a rush of affection for her quirky family members.
    She wheeled the empty cart to the closest collection site and paused for a moment, watching the other shoppers walk across the parking lot. She saw couples holding hands, adults helping their aged parents navigate the uneven ground, children raised on their fathers’ shoulders, and toddlers riding on their mothers’ hips. Cheeks were flushed pink by the cold, exhalations plumed in the air, the chatter of voices drifted over the cars, and here and there the flash of a smile brightened the January morning.
    Cooper absorbed the signs of everyday living and felt that, suddenly, there was beauty all around. The cars gleamed in the winter sun. People waved to one another. Laughter was exchanged.
    Heading back to Earl’s station wagon, Cooper repeated Grammy’s sentiment. “Love will see us through.”
     
    • • •
     
    The next morning, after Hope Street’s worship service was over, the Sunrise members bypassed the beckoning table filled with donuts and fresh fruit and headed straight for their cars. As usual, Jake drove Savannah in his Mr. Faucet van.
    Trish’s husband, Phil, was loading their two daughters into the family Volvo as the Bible study group arrived at the Tylers’ stately home. Trish’s girls waved from the backseat and Phil smiled apologetically at his wife’s friends and called, “We’re off to Friendly’s for lunch and then to High School Musical 3. Again!”
    Cooper thought Phil and the girls seemed relieved to be leaving.
    “It wasn’t hard to chase them off. I’ve been horrible to live with this weekend,” Trish explained from her position on