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bucks to me.”
    â€œWell, ain’t that somethin’,” the trucker nodded. “That’s kinda what it sounded like to me too.”
    â€œI’ll get my stuff,” McGuire said, and he trotted back to his car while the vehicles lining up behind the truck sounded their horns and the trucker leaned out the window and ran through a list of obscenities that lasted until McGuire returned to climb into the passenger seat with his luggage and a dozen red roses purchased that morning in Revere Beach.
    â€œThe hell, you lookin’ to get laid?” the trucker asked when he saw the roses.
    Mike Gilroy’s gold Volvo station wagon pulled off Miner’s Lane into the driveway just as Parker Leedale came downstairs into the living room, fastening the buttons on his blue blazer. He watched the couple emerge from the car and approach the house along the flagstone walk.
    Bunny Gilroy wore a gold cashmere sweater and brown skirt. A heavy gold necklace and matching gold earrings were her only jewelry. Her hair, the colour of pale lemons, shone in the sunlight as though lit from within.
    Mike Gilroy, laughing at something Bunny said when she left the car, wore a pinstriped blue suit, windowpane check shirt and knit tie. From inside the house, Parker Leedale watched Mike reach for his wife’s hand and squeeze it.
    Mike’s friends had been cool to Bunny when he first introduced her. She was far too young for him, they agreed. They had met in a Boylston Street bar in Boston, quiet little Mike just getting over a bad marriage made in haste, picking up a bleached blond floozy from some forgotten little town in Maine. This isn’t a woman you marry, they agreed among themselves. This is somebody you take away for a dirty weekend and forget about.
    But Bunny surprised them all. Her glamour and youth seemed to change Mike from a withdrawn, almost morose manager of his insurance agency into a man who appeared to enjoy life more than he ever had with his first wife. Even the wives of Mike’s oldest friends, who in the beginning had frowned at Bunny’s excessive makeup, grew charmed by her naturalness, her little-girl appeal. Whatever it was that Bunny Gilroy brought to their marriage, it seemed to agree with Mike. He had been happier over these past five years than his lifelong friends could remember.
    When Parker Leedale opened the front door, Bunny greeted him with a broad smile and when she hugged him he was aware of her breasts pressing against his chest. He shook hands with Mike, Little Mikey from their days in Compton Public School, as Bunny swept past him to hug June Leedale.
    Comments were exchanged about the wonderful weather and the Gilroys offered words of admiration for the buffet table June Leedale had prepared for the post-funeral gathering. Finally June glanced at her watch and said, “We should be going or we’ll be late.” She turned off the lights in the kitchen and checked the lock on the back door. “Blake and Ellie said they would meet us there. Maybe they’ve seen him.”
    â€œSeen who?” Mike Gilroy was standing near the front door, his hand on the small of his wife’s back.
    Bunny noticed Parker Leedale looking at her and she smiled at him. A friend’s smile. Your friend’s wife’s smile. A sister’s smile. Not the smile that says, Take me home with you. Parker turned away. “Come on, for Christ’s sake, June,” he said with an angry edge that surprised the others. “Let’s get going.”
    â€œCora’s nephew.” June Leedale walked briskly from the kitchen to the front door, staring into her open purse. “We still haven’t had a reply.” She brushed past Parker as though he wasn’t there and smiled at Mike and Bunny near the front door. “Looks like it’s going to be a very small funeral.”
    In the rear seat of the Volvo wagon, after Mike Gilroy had backed out onto