Chapter 36
I’d never really understood that saying about being knocked over with a feather until that moment. I blinked rapidly and shook my head. “Did you say he died?” I couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. Philip Ezra was dead.
She nodded, then closed her eyes for a moment as she shook her head. “Such a tragedy! Shakespearean if you will. That poor family. Neither of you have heard this story?” She didn’t wait for us to answer, and it was clear this was a woman who’d spent her adult life telling stories to classrooms of students. Eyes large, she paused for only a moment before saying, “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know about it. You’re just babies, and it was thirty years ago. Philip died mysteriously a year—” she looked up as though searching for the correct year on the ceiling of
