![]() Shade cast by a full-figured magnolia tree and a scattering of cypresses bathed different headstones. Morning sunshine drenched plush green grass. Now, she rocked back on her heels and cast her gaze over the surrounding plots, trying to make sense of everything. How had this happened? Accident? Foul play? She’d been walking the grounds, doing her morning chores, when she’d noticed an unauthorized pile of dirt and hurried over. Was this the afterlife’s version of robbing the cradle?īad Jane. ![]() Honestly? She looked better than the new guy who still had flesh and blood. If you ignored the fact that Rhonda Burgundy, the older resident, was nothing but hair and bone. Should I make couples coffins a new thing? Someone-or someone s-had redug the pit, unsealed his final resting place and given him a friend. Except this resident had been underground for the better part of a century, in a closed casket, alone. Pretty standard for the Garden of Memories, a private cemetery she’d inherited from her mother’s side of the family. Her mind whirled, different observations hitting her. ![]() ![]() Jane Ladling brushed her bangs aside and peered into the fresh grave. ![]()
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