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Clint’s said.
    “Unbearable,” another friend, Barbara, chimed in.
    Cindy was grateful for their kindness.
    “Clint told us how much he loved you,” Tina said, leaning forward. “He felt like such a lucky man.”
Cindy choked up. “Thank you,” she managed. “I was the lucky one.”
    “We live just a few miles away,” Tina offered. “We’re here if you need us.”
    Cindy felt grateful. “That’s so kind,” she said and meant it.
    The doorbell rang again. Al, a longtime pal of Clint’s walked in, carrying a gift basket. He’d been the best man at the wedding. “Listen Cindy,” he said right away. “I was Clint’s best man and still am. You need anything, you let me know. That’s what a best man is for.”
    He put the basket on the coffee table, started unwrapping it and giving some fruit, crackers and pieces of candy to all of them. Cindy noticed that Ann seemed to feel calmer as the afternoon went on. There were people nearby to support Cindy. She wouldn’t be totally alone.
    They all remembered Clint, what a good friend he was, how much fun he was to be with, what amazing things he could have done with his life.
     “The damn guy always walked a thin line though,” Al suddenly said, “Things would be going great in his life and then he’d always turn around and spend some time on the wild side.”
    “What do you mean?” Cindy asked, startled.
    “Danger, he had a taste for it. Nothing terrible, just some adventures he couldn’t pass by. For a while it was car racing.”
    Cindy hadn’t heard anything about this.
    “Yeah,” Al continued, “like when his car crashed in the third race he entered.”
    “It was terrifying,” Tina said.
    “His mother really freaked on him, even though he walked out of the wreck without a scratch. The crowd let out a scream when they saw him alive. But he gave up racing anyway. He was always lucky in strange kinds of ways.”
    “I guess his luck ran out,” Tina said, sadly.
    “Jesus,” Al said. “I just can’t believe this. How did it happen?”
    The doorbell rang again. Ann got up and let Henry Greerson in.
    Clearly, Greerson had come straight from work. He still wore a pin striped suit and tie and had the paper rolled under his arm. Probably read it on the train ride out. Cindy hadn’t expected him to come. He walked in, stopped for a moment, and gave Cindy a long look.
    “How are you doing, Cindy?” he said.
“Thank you for coming,” Cindy replied.
    “Of course,” he said. “I would have come sooner. Your sister said you weren’t taking visitors.”
    “I couldn’t in the beginning.”
    “Naturally.”
    There was something off-putting about him. He had thin lips, hazel, piercing eyes and a sallow complexion, even though the days were warm and sun plentiful. She supposed he lived in the city and didn’t get much time outdoors.
    “I want you to know that I represent everyone in the company when we tell you how sorry we are. Clint is a great loss. If there is anything we can do to help your transition, you must feel free to call on us.”
    Cindy shivered. She did not feel she could call on this man for anything. As he sat down and made himself comfortable, she vaguely remembered that he had flown out to Barbados right after Clint’s death. He had been the other one to identify the body. She also remembered that Clint had spoken well of him.
    Cindy saw Al looking at him carefully, too. Greerson seemed out of synch with the group that had gathered—too formal, smug, a bit intimidating.
    Ann stood up. “Would you care for a cup of coffee, Mr. Greerson?” she asked.
    “That would be lovely,” he replied.
    Ann left to get the coffee and pastries and he turned to Cindy. “You have quite a wonderful sister,” he said.
    “Yes,” she said softly, wondering how he knew Ann was her sister. “More than wonderful. In fact, I couldn’t have gotten along at all without her these past days.”
    “How long is she staying?” Barbara piped