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of Merlot to numb herself enough to get through the visitation, but obviously it hadn’t been enough. When she spied the woman in the royal blue dress, outrage broke through the haze, the grief, the agonizing emptiness that she’d been dragging around since Roger’s death.
    The gall of that woman. The goddamned, utter gall—
    She told the kids that she was going to the ladies’ room, then circled back to the foyer of the funeral home to approach the woman from the rear. She simply had to hope no one saw her.
    “What do you think you’re doing here?” Marla asked through gritted teeth.
    “Marla, honey!” Cassandra Lee gave Marla a sad little smile and stepped toward her with open arms.
    “You can’t be here,” Marla whispered, stepping back. “My children and my family—”
    Cassandra was somewhere in her fifties, a petite woman with soft, round curves. In her too-tight satin dress, she made Marla think of a well-upholstered chair. Her face, doughy and pale, bore too much makeup, though it was carefully applied. Her blond hair was pulled back from her face with some sort of gaudy, jeweled clip, and then fell in a wild explosion of over-processed frizz passing for curls.
    “How could I not come and pay my respects?” Cassandra’s voice was wounded and her eyes blinked back tears.
    Marla knew the crocodile tears as well as she knew the tacky jangle of the half-dozen bracelets on each of Cassandra’s wrists.
    “I appreciate your sympathy.” Marla bit down hard on her fury; to confront Cassandra would only be asking for it. Cassandra thrived on drama.
    “I just wanted you to know,” Cassandra’s lips quivered, “if there’s anything I can do for you—”
    “Thank you. But it’s not the time or place—”
    “Well, you haven’t returned any of my phone calls or e-mails.” Cassandra straightened her shoulders. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t turn your back on me.”
    Oh, Christ, here it comes . Her husband was dead, and all this woman could think about was her own petty problems. Marla didn’t trust herself to speak, but Cassandra didn’t notice.
    “I understand loss more than most people,” Cassandra whispered confidentially, putting her arm around Marla’s waist. “I lost my husband and my club, and all those people I thought were my friends—”
    “Yes, Cassandra,” Marla murmured grimly, stepping away from Cassandra’s embrace. The woman’s touch made her skin crawl. “I know you’ve had a hard time.”
    She saw her daughter looking at her from the other side of the room, and wondered how she would explain this pathetic, out-of-place stranger. She had to get Cassandra out of here.
    “I really hate to bring this up now,” Cassandra said, drawing close again and patting Marla’s arm. “But I do need to talk to you about, well, our arrangement .”
    “What?” Marla blinked, genuinely bewildered.
    “Roger and I talked last week. Didn’t he tell you?”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Well, Roger was going to lend me a little money,” Cassandra whispered. Then she smiled, this time almost flirtatiously. “Enough to get my club going again—”
    Marla felt her blood pounding in her ears, and for a moment she didn’t know if she was going to faint or punch Cassandra in the face.
    She no longer cared about creating a scene. She grabbed Cassandra by the upper arm, fiercely enjoying the feel of her nails biting into the woman’s flesh, and marched her toward the door.
    “I knew you were a lying, manipulative bitch—” Marla hissed. “But to come here now and try to get money from me—”
    “Owww, Marla, you’re hurting me!”
    “To pretend that Roger promised you anything! That even you could stoop so low—”
    Cassandra stumbled as Marla shoved her through the double doors into the parking lot.
    “But you’ve got to help me!” Cassandra whispered urgently. Tears stood in her eyes, and her cheeks were splotched a sickly red. “After all