By Joyce Lavene, Jim Lavene
Contains gardening tips!
No rain ability gains are wilting on the Potting Shed, so Peggy Lee joins her mom on a bone harvest excursion for the neighborhood ancient society. yet she stumbles upon a difficult mysteryhow a fellow volunteer turned a corpse with apparently pink lips.
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Additional info for A Corpse for Yew (Peggy Lee Garden Mystery, Book 5)
They resumed their walk up the hill. At the top of Gloucester Lane, the mews houses gave way to broader, more elegant streets, to Heriot Row and Darnaway Street. Heriot Row, which faced south, was a long sweep of Georgian terrace, with formal gardens on the other side. It was a street and an attitude rolled into one; most of those who lived here played the part expected of them and furnished their houses and ﬂats with Georgian furniture. The high windows of the drawing-room ﬂoors were draped with long-drop curtains, bunched at the sides, secured with formal tassels; the windows at street level afforded a glimpse of dining rooms with rise-and-fall lights above large mahogany tables, of grand pianos, of book-lined studies.
Was it not possible to love somebody hopelessly, from a distance even, and for that love to be satisfying, even if never reciprocated, even if the object of one’s affections never even knew? Jamie could love Cat even if he never, or only rarely, saw her. And she could love Jamie even if he never knew that she did. Both of us give love, she thought, and that must do something for us. Perhaps it was a bit like giving an anonymous gift. If one derived pleasure from the giving of something even if the recipient never knows who gave it— and it was a pleasure to give anonymously, as Isabel knew—then could not the giving of love be satisfying even if the person one loved never knew that he or she was loved?
Was Eddie a good judge of these matters? ” asked Mimi. “Yes,” said Isabel. “But we shall shortly see. I hope you don’t mind, by the way, having something on your ﬁrst evening. ” Mimi assured Isabel that she and Joe would be very happy to be entertained that night. “And I want to meet Patrick,” she said. “Poor young man. ” “Nobody enjoys being on display,” said Isabel. But then she thought: Some do, and so she added, “Except actors. ” Patrick could be both of these, she thought. She wondered whether a narcissistic actor would be an improvement on an unfaithful wine merchant, which is what Toby had been.