The apartment where Angela had once lived felt awfully small and cramped to Autumn, but maybe that was because Rachel seemed to have crowded every horizontal surface with a variety of knickknacks, crystals, statuettes, and other bric-a-brac, while the walls were covered with prints and paintings, some of landscapes from around the Verde Valley and Sedona, others with more metaphysical subjects of gods and goddesses and celestial scenes.
They took a seat on the overstuffed couch in the living area, a pot of tea on the antique coffee table in front of them. Rachel had insisted on making tea and setting out a plate of currant scones before they started talking. Autumn wasn’t sure whether she was just being a good hostess or whether Angela’s aunt merely wanted to delay hearing what she must h
