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    The pine glowed golden, even though its finish was now smudged with the fingerprints of an onslaught of mourners intent on laying hands on the deceased and everything associated with him, even his coffin.
    Faye had been honored to sit in the daughter’s spot in the family room during the viewing of the body. She had leaned in close to Emma and stayed there while hundreds of people filed past to pay their respects. She had rarely spoken, but Emma seemed to derive strength from her presence, and a newborn widow certainly needed her strength. Faye didn’t think that the current Queen Elizabeth herself was ever forced to graciously greet this many people in the space of a single evening.
    Joe had long ago stood in the interminable line for a chance to pay his respects to Douglass’ widow. Since then, he had stood in the front corner of the family room, near the door, where he could see the face of everyone who entered or left. His intense scrutiny was Faye’s most insistent reminder of the fact she would like to forget but couldn’t. Douglass had not left this life on his body’s schedule or on God’s. He had been brutally removed from the side of his loving wife. Joe’s clear green eyes were searching the funeral guests, looking for signs of a murderer. Sheriff Mike lingered nearby, doing the same thing.
    As Faye sat watching Joe, a familiar figure came into sight and paused, standing framed in the doorway. She had told him not to come. She had called him, weeping and looking for comfort in the face of violent death. In the same breath, she had told him not to come, but here he was.
    Why hadn’t she wanted him to come? Because she had the feeling that it would be unwise to let herself be alone with him now, when her shattered defenses might prompt her to make a commitment she wasn’t ready to make. When dealing with a man like Ross Donnelly, a woman had to know what she wanted. Otherwise, she was going to get what Ross wanted.
    ***
    Emma did her best to walk proud during her long trip down the aisle to the front pew, which was reserved for bereaved family members. Douglass had never seen her hang her head and weep, and she knew he was looking down on her from heaven now. Nothing would make Emma lose her grip on her dignity.
    And apparently, nothing would make Faye lose her grip on her elbow. The child seemed to believe that Emma would collapse if she let go. That was doubtful. Emma reflected that she had lived sixty years without collapsing even once. She’d never fainted yet, nor succumbed to a fit of the vapors. It seemed unlikely that she would start doing such things now. Still, she wouldn’t have wanted to live through this thing without Faye’s help.
    There had been talk among Douglass’ kinfolk about her inviting Faye to sit with the family at the funeral. Emma was not surprised. The Everetts were the kind of family that was very good at that kind of backbiting.
    The way Emma saw it, her husband’s cousins had been blessed with all the children they wanted. She and Douglass had not. She figured that since God had not given her a daughter, then He had implicitly given her the option to choose her own. Although if Faye didn’t stop pushing Kleenexes in her direction, she planned to stuff the whole wad of them into the casket with her late husband.
    Lord, how she hated that open casket, but she knew her friends and relatives. If the lid had been closed, they would have talked about it all week.
    Reckon how bad those murderers beat him? Must’ve been plenty bad, if Emma didn’t even let the reverend open the coffin lid.
    Emma wished she had eyes in the back of her head, because two of the seats directly behind her were occupied by intriguing people. Joe Wolf Mantooth remained intriguing, though she’d known him for more than three years now. And Ross Donnelly was newly intriguing.
    She and Douglass had met him just a month before. Faye was making her third trip to see Ross in Atlanta, and Douglass had