AURORA MOON
Aurora slapped Ivy's hand away and stood between her half-sister and her mother's fabric legacy. "Get your filthy hands off it."
Ivy stepped back, her expression full of shock and then outrage. "You don't own it," snapped Ivy.
"You shouldn't talk to your sister like that," said another voice. Oh, look. The original green tea, Sheila Crane. Her hair was done in a stylish topknot pinned with a gold rose. Her dress was a designer label with a tight bodice and a flared skirt. As usual, the woman's eyes held a thin veneer of disgust when she looked at Aurora.
Aurora suddenly remembered Ivy's confession from her previous life. Harold and Sheila had killed her mother. Was it true? Or had Ivy lied to add more pain to Aurora's dying moments?
As far as Aurora knew, her mother had died from complications of pneumonia. The idea that her beautiful, gentle mother had been murdered made grief stab at her belly. Grief and fury.
