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Show 405 her check, which he kissed, smelling powder. "How wonderful that you could be here, Lorin," she said. "It's my father," he said, feeling stupid. "Grace, isn't it a comfort to have your children with you now?" Lorin looked wildly around the room for a sibling. The room was full of people who looked familiar but whom he couldn't name. He did remember Alicebeth as a large woman with a shiny face who sang "The Holy City" in sacrament meetings when he was a deacon while her husband accompanied her at the piano with his mouth open, but Lorin wasn't sure he would recognize her husband now. More people had gathered in front of the casket and others stood in groups around the carpeted floor, talking quietly. Some looked at their watches. Banks of flowers stood at either end of the casket, and through the doorway to the chapel he could see more flowers in pots and urns and baskets arranged in front of the sacrament table. It was a hot afternoon; both entrances had been propped open, and the traffic noices from Highland Drive made him feel trapped in the heat. He realized he wanted to punch somebody. "Mother, look what just came." Lorin looked up and saw Katy holding a long box containing blue and gold carnations, with a filagree of sweet Williams and forget-me-nots wrapped around the stems like fishnet. "Lynn Ballou wired them. He was too sick to come himself but he sent these. Isn't that sweet?" Lorin was touched. Lynn was his father's oldest friend, and was rotting away with cancer of something or other in Carmel. His mother took the box from Katy and burst into tears. Lorin put an arm around her. "It's okay," he said. He wasn't sure what he meant. Katy dropped to her knees and adjusted the box on her mother's lap. |
