Chapter Seventeen
Paige stood in front of the vanity mirror checking her appearance for the tenth time. Tonight was the opening and she was nervous. Dressed in a simple black dress that skimmed her knees, a string of pearls around her neck and her hair twisted in a French knot, she figured she could pass for decent. She had even indulged in a little makeup.
Three weeks ago, she had gone to Rex's funeral. In fact, she and Marge had been the only ones there. Not even his father had shown up.
Her mind still pricked her from time to time about the struggle in her bedroom and the fact that she had been the one to kill him. She had seen a psychologist twice a week since then at the advice of her physician. She was slowly getting over the guilt at having shot him, reminding herself if it hadn'
