11
The prediction Friday was for heavy snow, an early storm. Shawn was eyeing the gray skies skeptically as he maneuvered his car into a parking space on Church Street, wondering whether it would be nearly as bad as forecasted. His father had gone to Boston that week on business and was spending the weekend with some Waterstone cousins before he was due back on Sunday.
Bob Stuart had called him first thing in the morning, confirming their appointment at Elisabeth's home on Church Street.
“Elisabeth Burnham called me to ask if we could push the meeting back to noon.”
“Wh-what?” he'd stammered, taken aback. He thought that after his conversation with Beth there would be no need for there to be a meeting at all. Didn't she say that she would withdraw as Angela Stuart’s attorney?
“It was
