Read Hope to Die for Free Online

say I'm looking forward to it."
    "I think you should go, though."
    "I don't think I've got much choice."
    "Do you want me to come? Because I will if you want, and I won't feel hurt if you don't."
    "I think maybe not," I said.
    "Or I could keep you company and wait in the car, so you won't be parading Anita's replacement in front of all her friends. Or, as far as that goes, T J would be glad to keep you company."
    "He could wear a chauffeur's cap," I said, "and I could ride in the back seat. No, I'll drive myself, I think, and keep myself company. I don't know that I'll mind the solitude. I'll probably have things to think about."
    So I sat there in the last row and thought about things, and when the service ended I walked up the aisle and mumbled something to Graham Thiele, something about how sorry I was, and he mumbled something back, assuring me it was good of me to come. We could have phoned it in, both of us. Then I turned to Michael and Andy. They were both wearing suits and ties, of course, and they looked good dressed up like that, my two big handsome sons.
    "I'm glad you could come," Michael said. "The service was okay, don't you think?"
    "It seemed fine," I said.
    "Are you going to ride out to the cemetery? I could see if there's room in the limo with us, or you could just join the parade, except they don't call it that. What's the word?"
    "Cortege," Andy supplied.
    "And afterward we're all going back to Graham's house. Uh, their house."
    "I think I'll pass," I said. "On the house, and on the cemetery. I think I'd be out of place."
    "Well, that's up to you," Michael said. "Strictly your call."
    Andy said, "Whatever, we've got a job to do." He was pulling on a pair of black silk gloves. "We're pallbearers," he said. "It's hard to take it all in, you know?"
    "I know."
    "They're going to close the casket. If you want to take a last look at Mom..."
    I didn't much want to, but then I hadn't really wanted to come out to Syosset, either. There are things you just do, and the hell with what you want or don't want. I went over and looked at her and was immediately sorry I had. She looked dead, waxen, looked as though she had never been alive in the first place.
    I turned away and blinked a few times but the image was still there. It would stay with me for a while, I knew, and then it would fade, and eventually I would remember the woman I used to know, the woman I'd married, the woman I'd fallen in love with once upon a time.
    I looked for my sons and there they were, both wearing the black pallbearer's gloves now, both with expressions that were hard to read. "Maybe we could meet someplace afterward," I suggested. "It's what, two years since I last saw you, Mike? And I can't remember the last time I saw you, Andy."
    "I can," he said, "because it's the last time I was inNew York. Four years ago, and I met Elaine for the first time, and the three of us walked to a restaurant and had dinner."
    "Paris Green."
    "That's the one."
    "Well, is there a place here in Syosset where we can meet? A coffee shop or something? After the cemetery, and after you've had a chance to see people back at the house."
    They exchanged glances. Michael said, "Once we get back to the house, I think we have to stay there. There's a lot of people who'll be dropping in, and I think we'd be missed if we slipped out."
    "Mom had a lot of friends," Andy said.
    "Maybe between the cemetery and the house," I said. But they'd be riding in the limo, Michael said, and Andy said the limo'd bring them back here, that was the plan, and they'd get their own cars.
    "So June can drive your car back," he said, "and I'll run you and me over to Hershey's."
    "God, not the Hershey Bar," Michael said. To me he said, "It's a beer bar, it's all high school and college kids, it's crowded and noisy. You wouldn't like it. As far as that goes, I wouldn't like it."
    "You used to," Andy said. "Before you turned into an old man. Anyway, it's an afternoon in the middle of the week. How