Murder Takes A Bow - A Betty Crawford Mystery (The Betty Crawford Mysteries) by Liz Marvin Page B
Authors: Liz Marvin
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to admit, put like that Clarise had a point.
"Are you sure it’s them you’re scared of disappointing?" Clarise continued, with the typical unnerving insight of a best friend.
Betty looked down at her hands. No. She wasn’t scared of her parents. She was afraid of having her own doubts confirmed. Because then they would be right.
"I just can’t tell them right now Clarise."
"Can’t or won’t?"
"Does it make a difference?" Betty looked up at Clarise. Her firend was still watching her with that patient gaze. "I’ll tell them eventually, when I’m ready."
Silence stretched between them. The sound of the offices right outside the door filtered in.
"I think you’re making a mistake."
Betty nodded. She could respect that. But she still wasn’t about to let Clarise’s disapproval dictate the way her life went. She loved her, she really did. But some decisions Betty had to make in her own time, and no amount of well meant advice would change that fact. The weight of Type Two Diabetes crashed down on her. If not telling her parents was a mistake, then it was a mistake. She’d deal with the consequences when they came.
The door opened on the silence in, letting in a burst of noise. Sergeant Wes came in, his smile dying as he looked around at them. "What gives?" he asked, taking the seat next to Clarise.
Clarise took his hand, leaning into his shoulder. "Nothing," she said. "Just girl talk."
CHAPTER 19
Betty arrived home to the wonderful smell of a dinner she could eat. The pamphlets she'd received at CVS had suggested that those with diabetes didn’t need to completely cut carbohydrates from their life, just lower them by doing simple things like using low fat and low carb recipes and watching her portion size. Macaroni and cheese didn’t seem like something to fit the bill, but in the morning Betty had come up with a recipe that used skim milk and low fat cream cheese instead of butter or margarine, with shrimp and Dole’s Broccoli Slaw tossed in to lower the carbohydrate count, add vegetables, fiber and protein. She’s left the recipe on the refrigerator as an idea for dinner. From the wonderful smell in the house, her mom had followed the recipe to a T. Given that she hadn’t eaten anything since that omelet so far back, Betty was more than willing to give it a taste test.
Her mother stood in from of the stove, dishing ladles of dinner onto three plates. "Oh good, you’re right on time," she said. "Can you get drinks? Your Dad wants a beer, and I’ll take water."
Betty pulled the beer from the fridge, looking at it longingly. She’d love a beer right about now: cold and fizzy and oh so slightly mind numbing… exactly what she needed after a day like this one. But, no. She’d be good. She poured a glass of water for herself and brought the drinks over to where her parents were already sitting down to dinner. She took her seat silently, reaching out for her Mother’s hand for the customary meal blessing.
"Lord," her mother said, head bowed, "Bless this food, which we have received through your bounty. Amen."
The same words, the same blessing, over every meal they ate for as long as Betty could remember. She never said grace on her own, but feeling the hands of both her parents steady in hers, hearing the ritualistic words, had a calming affect on her. Some things didn’t change, and that comforted her as nothing else had all day. All day she’d been pushing her emotions back, trying not to face the reality that her life had irrevocably changed. The conversation with Clarise hadn’t made her feel any better, it had just forced her to feel. But this, this simple act, was the first bit of comfort she’d had in hours. Not for the first time, Betty was intensely aware of how lucky she was to have her parents in her life.
She really was being
"Are you sure it’s them you’re scared of disappointing?" Clarise continued, with the typical unnerving insight of a best friend.
Betty looked down at her hands. No. She wasn’t scared of her parents. She was afraid of having her own doubts confirmed. Because then they would be right.
"I just can’t tell them right now Clarise."
"Can’t or won’t?"
"Does it make a difference?" Betty looked up at Clarise. Her firend was still watching her with that patient gaze. "I’ll tell them eventually, when I’m ready."
Silence stretched between them. The sound of the offices right outside the door filtered in.
"I think you’re making a mistake."
Betty nodded. She could respect that. But she still wasn’t about to let Clarise’s disapproval dictate the way her life went. She loved her, she really did. But some decisions Betty had to make in her own time, and no amount of well meant advice would change that fact. The weight of Type Two Diabetes crashed down on her. If not telling her parents was a mistake, then it was a mistake. She’d deal with the consequences when they came.
The door opened on the silence in, letting in a burst of noise. Sergeant Wes came in, his smile dying as he looked around at them. "What gives?" he asked, taking the seat next to Clarise.
Clarise took his hand, leaning into his shoulder. "Nothing," she said. "Just girl talk."
CHAPTER 19
Betty arrived home to the wonderful smell of a dinner she could eat. The pamphlets she'd received at CVS had suggested that those with diabetes didn’t need to completely cut carbohydrates from their life, just lower them by doing simple things like using low fat and low carb recipes and watching her portion size. Macaroni and cheese didn’t seem like something to fit the bill, but in the morning Betty had come up with a recipe that used skim milk and low fat cream cheese instead of butter or margarine, with shrimp and Dole’s Broccoli Slaw tossed in to lower the carbohydrate count, add vegetables, fiber and protein. She’s left the recipe on the refrigerator as an idea for dinner. From the wonderful smell in the house, her mom had followed the recipe to a T. Given that she hadn’t eaten anything since that omelet so far back, Betty was more than willing to give it a taste test.
Her mother stood in from of the stove, dishing ladles of dinner onto three plates. "Oh good, you’re right on time," she said. "Can you get drinks? Your Dad wants a beer, and I’ll take water."
Betty pulled the beer from the fridge, looking at it longingly. She’d love a beer right about now: cold and fizzy and oh so slightly mind numbing… exactly what she needed after a day like this one. But, no. She’d be good. She poured a glass of water for herself and brought the drinks over to where her parents were already sitting down to dinner. She took her seat silently, reaching out for her Mother’s hand for the customary meal blessing.
"Lord," her mother said, head bowed, "Bless this food, which we have received through your bounty. Amen."
The same words, the same blessing, over every meal they ate for as long as Betty could remember. She never said grace on her own, but feeling the hands of both her parents steady in hers, hearing the ritualistic words, had a calming affect on her. Some things didn’t change, and that comforted her as nothing else had all day. All day she’d been pushing her emotions back, trying not to face the reality that her life had irrevocably changed. The conversation with Clarise hadn’t made her feel any better, it had just forced her to feel. But this, this simple act, was the first bit of comfort she’d had in hours. Not for the first time, Betty was intensely aware of how lucky she was to have her parents in her life.
She really was being
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