“Got it.” She leaned down and adjusted the bow on Ronnie’s blouse. “Got your handkerchief?”


“And a spare.”


“All right then, I guess you’re ready.” Rose paused for a second, then put her hands on the taller woman’s shoulders. “Ronnie, I know you think you have to be this big, strong superwoman but you don’t. Even though you two had problems, he was still your brother and I know you loved him. If you have to cry, do it.” Her words earned her a gentle kiss on the forehead as her companion stood up.


“I’ll see you after the service.” Ronnie remained stooped long enough to tuck an errant strand of gold hair behind Rose’s ear.


As expected, the church was packed with friends, family, and business associates of the Cartwrights. Despite Ronnie’s words, Rose was content to stand against the back wall but a man sitting in the last pew stood and offered his seat. Remaining at the back wall, Maria took possession of the crutches so no one would trip over them. From their position at the rear of the large church it was impossible to see Beatrice and her daughters in the front pew. Rose listened to the monotone words as the priest went through the standard phrases of comfort and prayers of solace. When the end drew near, she motioned to Maria for her crutches, deciding it was easier to get out now than wait and get caught up in the throngs of people.


Just as she was getting into Maria’s car the doors of the church opened. From her vantage point, she could see the six men carrying out the casket. She watched as Beatrice exited, flanked by her daughters. Rose squinted but was too far away to really see Ronnie’s eyes. Her friend’s head was hung and her arm was around her distraught mother. She saw that Susan was also providing support to the grieving woman as they walked down the steps and into the waiting limousine. Realizing Maria was waiting for her, Rose put her crutches in the back seat and got into the car.



* * *

Just as Ronnie had predicted, friends and family members began pouring into the house less than half an hour after the funeral had ended. Long tables covered one side of the living room, stacked high with breads, meats, and cheeses. Leaning against one wall out of the main flow of traffic, Rose noticed it was the first place people went to as they arrived. Since the laundry room had plenty of rods and hangers, it served as a makeshift coatroom. The cool March winds delayed any idea people may have had about putting their coats away for the season just yet.


The floodgates were open and close to fifty people were there by the time Ronnie arrived with her mother and sister. Rose spotted the mane of dark hair above the rest of the crowd and began to work her way over. The trip was made easier when she had been spotted and the determined executive met her halfway. “Hi.” This close, it was easy to see makeup concealing the dark circles beneath Ronnie’s eyes. Leaning heavily on her right crutch, Rose discreetly reached over and intertwined their fingers, giving them a slight squeeze.


“Hi yourself,” Ronnie said, returning the affectionate gesture with one of her own. “Quite the crowd.” She scanned the area, quickly noting those who would be problems as time went on and the drinks continued to flow. “You wait, Rose. Before the night is through I’ll guarantee you at least one fist fight.”


“Fist fight? At a funeral?”


“I give them one hour to lament Tommy’s death. After that, the topic will turn to his will and speculations over who gets what and then the fighting will start, I’m sure.” They worked their way over to a corner near the stairs. Rose watched as her companion shifted her weight from one leg to the other and back again.


Rose thought to herself.


“Ronnie, come into my room for a minute.”


“Sure,” she replied, grateful for any chance to get away.


The first thing Ronnie noticed when she entered the room was one of her outfits neatly laid out on the bed. “I thought you would be more comfortable in your slacks,” Rose said with a shrug. To the pointed look at the shoes on the floor she added, “I know how much your feet hurt after being in heels all day. Flats are perfectly acceptable with those slacks. I’ve seen you wear them before.”


“So you had Maria pick these out for me?”


“No,” Rose replied with a proud smile. “I picked them out myself and brought them down. Maria was busy.”


The thoughtfulness almost brought Ronnie to tears. Blinking rapidly, she reached out and let one finger trace the smaller woman’s jawline. “Thank you.” She took a step back and kicked off her shoes. “I’d better get changed and back out there. I’m sure someone is looking for me. Probably my mother.” She added the last part under her breath. The skirt hit the floor followed quickly by her half-slip.


“Did everything go well at the service?”


“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Ronnie’s jaw tightened noticeably but she said nothing, instead picking up her slacks and sliding them on over pantyhose covered legs. Rose noticed the tension but said nothing, assuming it to be from the stress of the funeral and the relatives. Long toes wiggled their way into comfortable but stylish shoes while the gray blouse was tucked into the thin waistband. “Ah, I feel better already.”


“Is there anything I can do for you?” Rose asked. “Other than trying to keep your mother busy. She’s getting tired of me hanging around her, you know.”


“I heard. Susan will run interference for the most part. You can either stay in here, which I highly recommend by the way, or you can just go out there and listen to my cousins and second cousins and God knows who else ramble on about nothing of importance.”


“Well, when you put it that way.” Smiling green eyes accompanied the sarcastic remark. “How can I resist?”



* * *

To Rose, the sound was nothing but a general din. Ronnie, on the other hand, spent years learning how to work a crowd and was able to pick out the individual conversations easily. As she moved through the room, she carefully listened to the different snippets. By the time she reached Frank, she knew more about the new boat that her cousin was buying than he did. The knowledge allowed her to slip effortlessly into the conversation. Moving from person to person, Ronnie canvassed the room. When she thought she had said hello to everyone, she tried slipping out to the kitchen where she had seen her blonde beauty go a few minutes before.


“Ronnie.” Blue eyes rolled at the sound of her mother’s voice.


“Yes, Mother?” She turned to see Beatrice standing behind her. For that instant, the agitation she had felt toward her parent dissipated in the face of the grieving woman. Ronnie instantly softened her tone. “Is there something you need?”


“Where is your sister?”


“I don’t know.” She craned her neck to see over the crowd but there was no sign of the distinctive red hair. “Maybe Jack took her home.”


“Now Veronica,” the wrinkled hands went to her hips. “You know Susan wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to me,” she admonished. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder what you’re thinking.”


“I’m sorry, Mother. I wasn’t thinking.” The executive resisted the urge to rub her temples. It was a useless defense against a mother headache anyway.


“Well, Tommy’s death has affected us all.” Beatrice dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Your father had such high hopes for him. A tragic shame, that’s what it is.” A gnarled finger raised itself into the air and the matriarch’s eyes grew wide. “I have it.”


“Have what?” Ronnie asked hesitantly, certain she wouldn’t like the answer.


“The perfect way to pass on Tommy’s legacy. He always did enjoy his time in college. You can set up a scholarship in his name.” A self-satisfied smile formed on the older woman’s face. “Yes, that would be the perfect way to honor him.”


“We can talk about that some other time, Mother.”


“There’s nothing to talk about,” Beatrice said firmly. Ronnie’s eyes narrowed slightly when she saw Michael slip up behind her mother.


“Hi Aunt Beatrice, hi Ronnie.”


“Michael,” the executive said evenly.


“What’s everyone drinking?” He held up his empty glass.


“Nothing for me,” Ronnie said.she thought to herself as the faint smell of alcohol floated over to her. Beatrice held up her almost full glass to indicate that she was fine at the moment as well.


“Oh well.” He looked at his shoes, then back up at the two women. “So Ronnie, have you decided when you’re going to have his will read?”


“I didn’t realize there was a great hurry to having it done, Michael,” she said. The daggers her eyes were throwing were wasted on him since his gaze was everywhere except at her.


“No, no hurry at all,” he shrugged. “It’s just that we were close and I thought I should know when it is.” He looked up and finally realized what deadly looks he was getting. “Well um…” he tried clearing his throat, which suddenly felt like a lemon was wedged in it. “I’m sure you’ll let me know when it is.”