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e wondered what that meant to Detective Thronson whom she’d seen in the back row when she’d entered after everyone else had been seated. Did the detective think she was disaffected? Did that make her seem guilty? The investigation into Court’s death was ongoing. Though no one was saying it was anything but an accident, Elizabeth sensed the police were leaning in that direction.
You aren’t responsible. You didn’t kill him. You couldn’t have.
She shivered. She couldn’t help it. Barbara looked over at her and scowled and for just a moment Elizabeth’s temper flared. She’d about had it with Court’s sister and could hardly wait for her to fly home. With a concentrated effort, she tamped her negative feelings back down.
Barbara had insisted upon a graveside service as well, so an hour later, Elizabeth stood beneath a canopy next to the open grave and watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground. A ring of King palms fluttered in a brisk breeze and gooseflesh rose on Elizabeth’s skin.
Barbara had made noise about having an open coffin and a viewing, but on that Elizabeth had put her foot down. She’d identified Court’s body and though his face hadn’t been damaged, she felt that was enough. At that point, she hadn’t known which way Chloe would fall on going to the service for her father and Elizabeth wasn’t going to have Court’s dead face be the last image in her daughter’s mind. Barbara had acquiesced with ill grace.
Rain fell fitfully, making soft ponk-ponk sounds on the canvas canopy. The wind picked up, swaying the palms high overhead and a sudden thunk startled everyone when a huge frond dropped onto the pavilion just as a woman began to sing a hymn. Her voice warbled for a moment, but she pulled herself together and sang on with strength.
And then it was over. Elizabeth greeted people who walked by and offered sympathy, watching as Barbara began hugging everyone as if they were best friends. As soon as she could, Elizabeth escaped the crowds and picked her way toward the parking lot over somewhat soggy grass from a surprisingly hard rain the night before. The wind was gusting and rain began to fall again.
Her friend Tara met up with her. “I’d be happy to pick up Chloe today. She and Bibi can play together, and you can come get her whenever you’re ready. Will that work?”
“That would be terrific. Thanks, Tara,” Elizabeth said, heartfelt. “I’ll call the preschool.” The children of a number of Elizabeth’s Moms Group friends attended Bright Day Preschool with Chloe. Tara’s name was on the list of people who were allowed to pick up her daughter.
“Not a problem.”
Several other of her Moms Group friends caught up to her as they all headed toward their vehicles. Honey-haired, green-eyed Deirdre Czursky gave her a fierce hug. Her son Chad was in Chloe’s home room and a good friend to her.
“How’re you doing? The truth now,” Deirdre said, finding an umbrella and clicking it open.
“So-so.”
“Well, you look great, if that means anything to you. Hang in there,” she advised.
Vivian Eachus, her blond-streaked, curly hair banded into its ubiquitous ponytail poof, looked alien in a dark skirt and sweater as Elizabeth almost always saw her in Lululemon workout gear. Vivian’s daughter Lissa was bolder and louder than Chloe, a little stockier and slightly taller. With her straight brown hair forever falling out of the glittery clips Vivian forced her to wear, Lissa was bossy and headstrong, even more so than Chloe, which made the two girls wary friends.
“I’m so sorry about all this,” Vivian said, also giving Elizabeth a quick hug as the rain started in earnest.
“Me, too. It’s just awful,” said Vivian’s friend Nadia. She sometimes joined their meetings even though she didn’t have a child. According to Vivian, Nadia had been trying to conceive like mad for years, but it just hadn’t happened. There had been talk of in vitro, apparently, but Nadia still was slim as a reed. Elizabeth couldn’t pull out her last name no matter how hard she tried, so she just gave up; it had been that kind of week.
Nadia bit her lip, then gazed at Elizabeth through stricken blue eyes. “Look,” she said and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand hard. “If you need anything . . . ?” She left the question open.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth gave her a crooked smile.
It had to be difficult for Nadia to be part of their Moms Group, given her situation, but she had insisted she wanted to join and be with them all and had made it clear that she didn’t want them to hold back, or make concessions for her just because she was childless. She had assured them more than once that it was therapeutic for her to be around the kids, so they all tried not to tiptoe around Nadia’s feelings. The truth was, she didn’t always come to their gatherings. Then again, none of them could make all the events.
The women who’d attended the funeral were only a faction of the larger group, but they were closest to Elizabeth, the ones she hung out with, the ones she considered her friends.
Bending her head against a fresh gust of wind, she walked quickly through the rain, only to hear her name shouted above the wind. “Liz?”
She turned to spy Jade Rivers, the final member of her closest friends, the only people who shortened Elizabeth’s name.
“Hey, wait up.” Jade was flagging her down. A tall, statuesque African-American woman, Jade was six months pregnant with her second son, whom she planned to name Liam. Her firstborn, Little Nate, as everyone called him, was nearly a year younger than Chloe and therefore in the class behind her in school.
Catching up to her, Jade hugged Elizabeth fiercely, her voice catching. “Oh . . . God, this is so awful. I mean I . . . I can’t believe it. I’m just . . . just so sorry, Liz. You know I’m there for you. Whatever I can do to help, you just call me, okay.” She blinked back tears and held her friend at arms’ length as the rain peppered the ground.
“I will.”
“Promise?” Jade demanded. “I mean it, Liz.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Believe me, I’ll let you know.”
“Good.” Jade ducked her head against the rain and dashed for her SUV, just as Elizabeth hit the remote to unlock her own.
It was over. At last.
