Chapter Twelve

The funeral events went as expected. Lots of familiar faces, some whose names I’d forgotten, came up to me and offered hugs and condolences. I went through all the motions tearless and numb. I twisted my dry hanky when Lauren Lindstrom, my father’s goddaughter, sang Ave Maria because it was Daddy’s favorite church song. Billy wrapped his arm around me while Annie lightly held my hand, and for once, her touch didn’t distract me. Occasionally, I felt Connie’s solid touch in between my shoulder blades because she sat directly behind me. There were at least three dozen flower arrangements besides the ones I ordered.

When we left the church after the funeral services, I noticed Sheriff Terabian, in dress uniform, holding court near her cruiser. Annie had hold of my arm, and I asked her why the sheriff was there.

“Oh, she’s head of law enforcement for the entire county. She has to attend the funeral of our leading citizens.” I shot Annie an annoyed glance. “It’s expected. You know that. She’s…a good person to have on your side…I suppose.”

“Well, she’s not on my side, Annie.” Annie looked disturbed about my comment, but she didn’t reply. I let the matter go, but for a brief moment, the sheriff caught my eye and gave a vague nod. I hoped she felt a little red-faced about writing me a ticket only a few days earlier. However, I was certain I’d never know how she felt about that. She was all uniform and business, and surprisingly that seemed unfortunate.

The sheriff’s cruiser, lights flashing, led the procession to the cemetery. As the crowd gathered around the grave site, I held on to Connie and Billy. When the low voices of the mourners died down, the meadowlarks’ song became the background music to the priest’s prayers. I glanced around once and caught the sheriff looking at the crowd like a secret service agent watching a president’s audience. What the hell was she looking for? An assassin? She needed to get a grip on her life. Her gray eyes met mine for a second and I looked down, feeling my ears burn. Annie moved in behind me, placed her hand on my shoulder, and I forgot all about the sheriff.

After the funeral, burial, and endless reception, I had Billy take me home. I couldn’t face another well-meaning hug. I smelled like a women’s restroom with all the secondhand perfume that had rubbed off from lacquered hair, floral lotions, and cologne. I wanted a shower, my sweats, a glass of wine, and some soft laughs with Billy.

Before returning to her home, Connie had beaten us to the house and stocked the kitchen with all kinds of food to supplement the ten or so casseroles now waiting in the freezer. You could trust folks of Prairie View to keep you fed in times of crisis. The problem was returning all those casserole dishes. Each one was labeled with the owner’s name, implying that I should eat the food and return the dish with appropriate compliments to the chef. Billy saw it as a culinary windfall for himself.

“Oh, just take it. I can’t eat all that stuff. How many hamburger casseroles can one gal eat anyway?”

“Don’t you worry, dearie, we’ll make use of this cornucopia of goodness while you’re here, and you won’t have to eat at the Grill all that often. I’ll return all the containers myself. This food will save you from your own cooking.”

“What do you mean? Connie’s a great cook, and I don’t intend to make her stop or anything.”

“I guess your dad didn’t tell you. Connie put her foot down a few years ago and told Dean she was only cooking once a day in this house. First of all, your father would often not show up when supper was ready. And then there’s Connie’s back.”

“What about her back?” I was out of the loop in my own home. A self-imposed isolation from the day-to-day life of my father and Connie was a result of my disconnection when Grandma died. Prairie View, without Grandma, wasn’t home anymore.

“Connie has a herniated disk. She really isn’t supposed to work at all. But she’s a workhorse. What is she going to do without this job?”

“Who says she’s out of a job?” Then it dawned on me. Connie was out of a job, and it was my responsibility to make sure she would be okay. Wasn’t it?

“Damn, Billy, this is all too much for me. Daddy’s business, this house, its contents, Connie, the lawsuit, all that land. I don’t even know anything about Daddy’s land, except that stinkin’ Martin farm.”

“Look, your dad was on top of everything. He had good help. His managers are excellent. His attorney in Great Falls is well respected. Have you looked at your dad’s files in his office yet? When it comes to business, I may be the queen, but he is the undisputed king of organization.”

“I haven’t gone through his stuff yet, and his office is just too…personal for right now. I’ll get to it eventually. He knew he was in bad shape, Billy. Do you think he prepared for this, I mean legally?”

“I know he did, Jilly-bean. He told me he was readying everything in case you had to take over suddenly, and he knew you’d be pissed off about that. So he tried to make it as easy as possible. He didn’t tell me about his bad heart, though.”

My exhaustion was starting to pull me down. I felt its weight leaning on my sagging shoulders and drooping head. “Billy, do me a favor, would ya, hon? Open a bottle of wine, pour us some, and promise you’ll go with me to see the Great Falls attorney on Tuesday. What’s his name again?”

“Her. Her name is Sylvia McCutcheon, my tired pathetic friend. And of course, I’ll go with you. I’m expected, too. Do you want anyone else to go with us?”

I assumed he was hinting that I could ask Annie to come, too. But I didn’t like the feel of it. Annie and I had only just started reconnecting, and it didn’t seem appropriate that she be there. Well, that’s what I told myself, anyway. When I thought truthfully about it, I admitted that I was embarrassed by all that money I was getting. Annie worked hard in her little shop, probably not making much. And Wayne was an orderly at the hospital. Their two sons, barely a year apart, were in the military, probably in Iraq. Actually, Annie hadn’t really told me where they were stationed, but that’s the natural assumption you make for any member of the armed forces: either going to the Middle East, in the Middle East, or returning from the Middle East.

“Let’s just make it an outing for the two of us, Billy. I don’t have it to field any extra energy from anybody. Um, Annie and Wayne’s marriage. How is it? I mean, are they happy together? Do you hear anything? They’re together all the time, but I used to hear that it was tough between them.” I know I sounded thirteen years old. I was also struck by a section of my heart that really didn’t care about Annie and Wayne’s marriage. When had that developed?

Billy, to his credit, didn’t roll his eyes. With the palm of his hand, he rubbed his shaved head, making a sandpapery sound, and thought about my question. “I don’t know, Jill. Usually, I have a bead on just about everybody, but Annie and Wayne keep to themselves, you know? They don’t hit any of my watering holes. They don’t attend any church regularly that I know of. On occasion, they come to the Elks Club for a special event, but don’t stay long. I don’t even see them in their yard on the weekends. They’re private, a little rednecked.”

Billy leaned both elbows on the kitchen island. “Their boys graduated from high school and were gone immediately into some branch of the military, but darned if I even know which one. Whatever trouble Annie and Wayne had, it was over years ago from the looks of things. I hope you aren’t still toting that tarnished, sputtering torch for her, because I don’t want to see you get into something messy.”

“You should see the odd looks she gives me, Billy.” Since Billy wasn’t hopping to my wine request, I went into the pantry where Daddy had a wine storage cooler. I shouted from the pantry, “It’s like she’s sizing me up, or sometimes, like she has something important to say. Then her face gets neutral again. I feel fucked around by it.” I used the corkscrew hanging from the pantry wall. The cork squeaked then popped out. I went back to find Billy glowering. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re going to get soundly shafted again. You can’t go back, you know. You’re not seventeen anymore. She’s married, and you are too sophisticated, not to mention too gay, to go after a small-town married woman. It’s a bad idea. And while Wayne’s pretty much of a nice guy, he does drink some and he hangs out with weirdos.”

“Weirdos? Like who?”

“On the weekends, when he’s not at the hospital, he hangs out with the hunting and fishing crowd.”

“Oh, you little fairy, the whole town is the hunting and fishing crowd. Quit being so judgmental of the very people whose money you shovel into your fist several nights a week.”

“No, I mean the rabid hunters. You know, the guys with the scary bumper stickers and gun racks in the back of their pickups. They even have a firing range up on the Martin farm where Wayne hangs out.”

“The Martin farm? Why does that place have to plague every conversation I have? Are you saying Wayne is buddies with the low-life Martin boys? Nice old Wayne?”

“I’m not saying he’s buddy-buddy with them, dearie, only that I’ve heard he goes and shoots at their private range. A place where only the Martins’ select little crowd gets invited. Annie shoots, too, from what I’ve heard.”

It was time for me to have that wine. Annie into guns and hanging out with the Martins? It didn’t fit. I was sure there was more to the story, but figured if it was important, Annie would tell me one of these days. I poured two fingers of the Frog’s Leap (Rutherford Cabernet, 1989) into two glasses. I handed Billy his and started swirling mine, curious to deconstruct the bouquet and taste. As I sniffed my wine I saw Billy slog back his glass without a thought to the amount of money that was in his mouth.

“Um, Billy, Daddy’s whiskey cabinet is over there. Help yourself.”