it had also been incredibly satisfying on those too-rare occasions when she'd been able to help her husband get good legislation enacted or sway public opinion in favor of good policies. "From what I've read, gardening might give me that same feeling that I'm doing something worthwhile."
"What about your volunteer work with the Friends of the Library?" Betty asked.
"That's on hold for the summer while the focus is on children's programs, which isn't my area of expertise."
"The library's going to need your organizational help before the fall," Betty said. "I've heard they're planning to oust the volunteer who's been in charge of the end-of-summer potluck dinner for the last ten years. It's a popular event and their biggest fundraiser, so they won't get rid of her unless they have someone to replace her. I bet they're counting on you."
"Just so long as they don't ask me to do any actual cooking." If she had to donate something edible, she could always import some of the croissants from Clear Flour Bakery. The ones Lily had brought yesterday with Gruyere cheese would make an outstanding appetizer, and all Helen would have to do would be to cut them into small slices.
"If you're organizing the potluck," Josie said eagerly, "maybe you could get us sprung from here so we could attend."
"Walter and I used to go every year," Betty said, her hands still for a moment. "I haven't gone since he died, but I would like to."
"My niece did try to get you a day pass once, and I have to say, if Lily wasn't able to arrange it, I doubt I'd have any better luck."
"You can do it," Betty said. "Martha Waddell likes you."
Martha was the assistant director of the nursing home with aspirations to become its first female director, a promotion she considered long overdue, although, it would also make her the youngest director ever. She did like Helen and felt indebted to her because of the role Helen had played in reassuring the nursing home's residents that they were safe from a con man known as the Gingerbread Man. Still, Martha would never let her emotions sway her professional decisions. If she didn't think it was safe for a resident to leave the grounds even for an hour or two, she wouldn't budge, no matter how much she was personally indebted to the person asking for the favor.
"I'll do my best, but there's no rush to discuss it with Martha, is there?" Helen asked. "I'll be talking to my visiting nurse tomorrow, and she might have some ideas for how to convince Martha that you'll be safe at the potluck dinner."
"Plenty of time," Betty said. "If the dinner is scheduled for the same date as usual, you've got months to work on Martha."
There was a commotion behind Helen over by the double doors that opened into the activity room. She turned to see Geoff Loring, a reporter for the Wharton Times , being waved at by the half-dozen patients in wheelchairs lined up to face the massive front windows.
Geoff was the very image of bland from his dirty-blond hair to his generic sports shirt, khakis, and loafers. He had nice but forgettable facial features, and his expression was usually halfway between cheerful and solemn. He did have a lovely smile that made him look both wiser than he really was and younger than his actual early thirties. He seldom bestowed that smile on Helen though.
Geoff started to make a visual sweep of the room, so Helen ducked back behind the cover of the wing-back chair before he could be scared off by her presence.
"I'm sorry to leave so soon, but it feels too weird to be here without something to work on, and I'd like to see what Geoff knows about Sheryl's death."
"Good luck," Josie said. "Do you want us to create a distraction so he won't see you sneaking up on him?"
"I think I can manage on my own this time," Helen said, although Josie was right that the most difficult part of getting information out of Geoff was cornering him before could run away from her.
* * *
Apparently Geoff hadn't noticed
"What about your volunteer work with the Friends of the Library?" Betty asked.
"That's on hold for the summer while the focus is on children's programs, which isn't my area of expertise."
"The library's going to need your organizational help before the fall," Betty said. "I've heard they're planning to oust the volunteer who's been in charge of the end-of-summer potluck dinner for the last ten years. It's a popular event and their biggest fundraiser, so they won't get rid of her unless they have someone to replace her. I bet they're counting on you."
"Just so long as they don't ask me to do any actual cooking." If she had to donate something edible, she could always import some of the croissants from Clear Flour Bakery. The ones Lily had brought yesterday with Gruyere cheese would make an outstanding appetizer, and all Helen would have to do would be to cut them into small slices.
"If you're organizing the potluck," Josie said eagerly, "maybe you could get us sprung from here so we could attend."
"Walter and I used to go every year," Betty said, her hands still for a moment. "I haven't gone since he died, but I would like to."
"My niece did try to get you a day pass once, and I have to say, if Lily wasn't able to arrange it, I doubt I'd have any better luck."
"You can do it," Betty said. "Martha Waddell likes you."
Martha was the assistant director of the nursing home with aspirations to become its first female director, a promotion she considered long overdue, although, it would also make her the youngest director ever. She did like Helen and felt indebted to her because of the role Helen had played in reassuring the nursing home's residents that they were safe from a con man known as the Gingerbread Man. Still, Martha would never let her emotions sway her professional decisions. If she didn't think it was safe for a resident to leave the grounds even for an hour or two, she wouldn't budge, no matter how much she was personally indebted to the person asking for the favor.
"I'll do my best, but there's no rush to discuss it with Martha, is there?" Helen asked. "I'll be talking to my visiting nurse tomorrow, and she might have some ideas for how to convince Martha that you'll be safe at the potluck dinner."
"Plenty of time," Betty said. "If the dinner is scheduled for the same date as usual, you've got months to work on Martha."
There was a commotion behind Helen over by the double doors that opened into the activity room. She turned to see Geoff Loring, a reporter for the Wharton Times , being waved at by the half-dozen patients in wheelchairs lined up to face the massive front windows.
Geoff was the very image of bland from his dirty-blond hair to his generic sports shirt, khakis, and loafers. He had nice but forgettable facial features, and his expression was usually halfway between cheerful and solemn. He did have a lovely smile that made him look both wiser than he really was and younger than his actual early thirties. He seldom bestowed that smile on Helen though.
Geoff started to make a visual sweep of the room, so Helen ducked back behind the cover of the wing-back chair before he could be scared off by her presence.
"I'm sorry to leave so soon, but it feels too weird to be here without something to work on, and I'd like to see what Geoff knows about Sheryl's death."
"Good luck," Josie said. "Do you want us to create a distraction so he won't see you sneaking up on him?"
"I think I can manage on my own this time," Helen said, although Josie was right that the most difficult part of getting information out of Geoff was cornering him before could run away from her.
* * *
Apparently Geoff hadn't noticed
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