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their place behind a decorated oblong table. Mattie counted the unlit candles on the table, eighteen in all. Soft music flowed from a mounted projector as the words In Memory flashed across the screen amid a background of white Calla Lilies. She’d forgotten about the In Memory phase of the program. Emma’s voice rang out in her ear: “they’d better not put no ugly picture of me on that screen.” Her throat caught as she shook Emma’s voice away. This would be the first year she sat through the ceremony without her crony.
    Nancy recited their names alphabetically as a candle was lit for each person. Kauthon held her hand when Emma’s face emerged. A Gullah Festival photo depicting Emma dancing with a blue ball of cotton candy had been chosen. She leaned over to Kauthon. “Excuse me, please.”
    She gathered her purse and went to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, Emma’s image renewing her sense of urgency. Grand Oak had been good to her, better than two of her three children, but it wasn’t home. She took a few deep breaths, pulled her phone from her purse, and dialed Gabrielle first.
    â€œGigi, the program is ending soon. Please come join me. I hoped you talked to Alice and Joshua about the rotation. I want to come home again.”
    She ended the call and dialed Alice’s home number. Beryl had forbidden her to have a cell phone. He’d found the one she’d purchased for Alice and handed it to the trash men on pick-up day. The phone and a few other offenses caused Beryl to toss her from their home. The phone rang three times before Beryl, groggy with an edge of anger in his tone, answered, “Parker residence. How may I help you?”
    â€œIt’s Ms. Mattie, Beryl. May I please speak to Alice?”
    â€œShe’s in bed. I’ll have her call you tomorrow.”
    â€œIt’s really important. I need to tell her something.”
    â€œMs. Mattie, her bedtime is at nine. She has work in the morning and I refuse to disturb her.”
    She ended the call without saying goodbye. She knew Joshua would be there; probably too late. She checked her voicemails in anticipation of hearing her children’s voices. Joshua’s text message helped, but it wasn’t his voice. She rubbed the back of her neck and rejoined Kauthon in the rec room.
    â€œI was about to come after you. I figured the tribute would be hard on you.”
    â€œSince Emma passed, I feel like I’m here, but I’m gone.”
    â€œTime’ll heal it.”
    â€œWho said I had a lot of time left?”
    â€œDon’t say that.”
    â€œThat’s easy for you to say. Come tomorrow you’ll be in Connecticut with your daughter. It’s almost Christmas and my children haven’t brought me anything, not even a fruitcake.”
    Kauthon chuckled, asked her, “Do you really want one?”
    They both laughed. They watched as the El Bethel Senior Choir assembled their instruments. The troop closed out the program every year with special requests from the residents. She scribbled “Carol of The Bells” on one of the request slips Nancy distributed two weeks ago. Daniel played a stirring rendition of the song every Christmas until arthritis wouldn’t allow him. She glanced at her watch again and settled back in her seat. Kauthon swayed to the songs, his feet tapping with the drummer’s rhythm. When the last song ended, everyone stood to their feet with thunderous applause.
    Nancy stood behind the microphone stand again, her shoulders moving to the instrumental accompaniment from the band. “This concludes our pageant for the year. El Bethel’s Senior Choir outdid themselves this year.” She turned sideways and pointed at them as each member nodded with glee at the acknowledgment. “Please fellowship with them and enjoy the refreshments we’ve provided.”
    Kauthon rose, stretched, and shook his pant legs