For the first forty-eight hours, Denise barely spoke to me.
Then something changed.
I don’t know whether someone said something to her.
Maybe grief needed somewhere to go.
Maybe she simply woke up angry.
At Marcus’s memorial, I heard the first whisper.
His cousin Renee approached me near the church entrance.
“Tessa, can I ask you something?”
Her expression made me nervous.
“What?”
“Was Marcus taking medication that affected his thinking?”
My body went rigid.
“Why?”
Renee looked uncomfortable.
“Aunt Denise said he was heavily medicated when the donation decisions were made.”
I stared at her.
“That isn’t true.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“It sounds like you are.”
“No. I just…”
She lowered her voice.
“She said you handled most of the medical decisions at the end.”
“I handled appointments. Marcus handled his own decisions.”
Renee nodded too quickly.
“I believe you.”
But she didn’t.
I could see it.
Later, I found Denise standing near Marcus’s photograph.
People were still inside the church.
I walked directly to her.
“What are you telling people?”
She looked at me.
“I’m answering questions.”
“With lies?”
Her face hardened.
