Page 11 of Easton Island

Morgan leaned in. “Were you going to meet with Grandmother?”

“Yes. I remember now. I saw Elizabeth’s car and decided to park next to it.” She lifted her hand and tapped the top of her watch. “At ten.”

“Your hand.” Morgan pointed to a large bruise near her knuckles. “What happened?”

Prissy quickly covered it. “It’s nothing. I…uh…tripped on the porch step.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flitted from the steering wheel to the angry red scratch on the side of Prissy’s face. “You fell on your face?”

She absentmindedly touched her cheek. “I ran into a bush.”

“Good heavens. Let’s go over to the gallery.” Elizabeth swung the driver’s side door open and motioned for her to get out.

“I can meet you there.”

“We’re only going to the end of the street. We can walk. The fresh air will do us good.”

Noting Elizabeth’s firm tone, Prissy shut the engine off, grabbed her purse and exited the vehicle.

“When is your next doctor’s appointment?” Morgan asked.

“I have it written on my calendar at home.” Prissy joined them on the sidewalk and turned right, in the opposite direction of the art gallery.

Morgan started to correct her. Elizabeth stopped her and mouthed the words, “Let her go.”

Prissy walked toward the harbor and away from the gallery, chattering about her gardens and how excited she was to plant her spring flowers all the way to the end of the block. She came to a quick stop, a baffled expression flitting across her face. “Where’s the art gallery?”

Elizabeth grabbed her shoulders and spun her around so that she faced the opposite direction. “Straight ahead.”

Her look of confusion deepened. “I…uh…got turned around. We were talking, and I wasn’t paying attention.” She hurried on. “Of course, I know where your art gallery is. Silly me.”

“Let’s take you home. Morgan will drive your car. You can ride with me.” Elizabeth, maintaining her no-nonsense tone, left no room to argue.

Prissy reluctantly handed Morgan her keys.

“We’ll meet you there.” Elizabeth escorted her sister-in-law to Burnie’s passenger side. After making sure she was safely inside, she climbed behind the wheel. With a quick check in the mirror, she backed out of the parking spot and roared off down the street.

Morgan followed at a slower pace. She reached Prissy’s ranch-style, single-story home. The two were already out of the car and standing at the back door.

Quickly parking, Morgan sprang from the vehicle and hurried across the driveway. “I have your keys.” She handed them to Prissy. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Your grandmother has a lead foot,” Prissy joked. “We made it in record time.”

“I’m sure you did.”

Elizabeth led them inside and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. “The lights aren’t working. Do you have a burned-out bulb?”

“I don’t think so.”

Morgan slipped past them and climbed the stairs. She tried the kitchen light. Again, nothing happened. Glancing at the counter microwave, she noticed it wasn’t working either. The interior air was chilly, as if the heat hadn’t kicked on.

Prissy and Elizabeth caught up with her.

“It’s cold in here.” Elizabeth rubbed the sides of her arms.

“The power is off,” Morgan said.

Prissy, seemingly unconcerned, shuffled over to the counter. “I would offer you a cup of tea but I’m out of teabags.”