Demetria stared ahead as they had lunch as if nothing happened. Jack and Ivory chuckled over some nonchalant conversation about their childhood. The house felt calm and quiet, too quiet for Demetria's liking.
What she would do to be in her bed with her cat curled up at her feet. A nice mug of hot chocolate in one hand and a murder mystery in the other.
She hoped Kitty was okay, and hopefully, Kerry or Jane was feeding him. Maybe they'd find the will in her garden, or her important shoebox of things hidden under the floorboard.
She figured none of it mattered. They were just things, things that wouldn't be taken with her to the next life. Things that she wasn't sure Jane or Kerry would even care about.
"Demetria, you've hardly touched your
food," Jack said, gesturing toward her plate.
