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36
Lily
The funeral was on Sunday. Vincent and Lenora had opted for a service in an Episcopal church, even though none of them were Episcopalian – strictly because it was one of the most beautiful structures in all of New York. Like a medieval cathedral, with all the majesty that implies.
Sebastian had handled all the arrangements, and had spared no expense. The flowers were ethereally beautiful. Orchids, lilies, white roses. Next to the mahogany casket on the dais sat an incredible oil portrait of Mr. Templeton, done in the style of an old-world master. He looked even more like a king in that painting than he had in real life.
Sebastian was at the front of the church, coordinating everything, directing people – basically doing what he does best. Johnny hovered in the background, trying to shadow me without freaking out any of the funeral attendees. The rest of security was being handled by Connor’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
Besides our friends, some of the richest people in New York – and the world – had turned out. I only recognized a handful: famous heads of tech companies, and a few in the media. But hundreds of grey-haired men in $10,000 suits filed into the church, shaking Connor’s hand and giving their condolences.
I overheard two of them talking to each other outside Connor’s earshot.
“Quite a turnout.”
“Well, you know what they say: give the people what they want…”
They both chuckled quietly.
I couldn’t fault them for the joke, knowing what Mr. Templeton was like. But on behalf of the man I’d had dinner with a week before, I hated them anyway.
I was standing next to Connor when Lenora Templeton arrived.
She was even thinner than the last time I had seen her. Skeletal, almost. Her face looked worn and haggard, but she carried herself with the same aristocratic bearing I had seen before in Vegas. No amount of tragedy could beat that out of her.
She was dressed in black Givenchy, sunglasses, and the wispiest of veils. Vincent walked beside her, supporting her on his arm. He looked even puffier and more hangdog than when I had seen him at the charity ball, although now there was at least a reason.
Miranda brought up the rear. She wore a tasteful designer black dress that somehow still managed to mix sex and death in equal measure. She wore an appropriately somber look on her face, which she somehow managed without producing a single wrinkle or frown line.
Sebastian was further up the aisle when they walked in. I saw him and Connor have a silent exchange with only their eyes.
Do you want me to do something?Sebastian seemed to ask.
Connor subtly shook his head. No. I’ll handle it.
“Mother,” Connor said as she walked up.
She looked at him blankly, then her gaze shifted to me. The burgeoning disgust on her face was unmistakable.
Connor saw it, too. “DON’T.”
But she couldn’t help herself. Or didn’t want to.
“I told you and I told you, but you just had to bring your little strumpet to the funeral, didn’t you,” she said with vicious disdain.
“Lily’s going to be my wife, so either shut up and walk on by, or keep a civil tongue in your head,” Connor said.
I put my hand on Connor’s arm to try to calm him down.
Johnny appeared out of nowhere, apparently to do the same. “Hey – easy, big guy.”
We were all saved from further escalation, ironically by Lenora. She burst out wailing and buried her face in her hands.
Vincent looked at Connor reproachfully. “It’s Dad’s funeral, for Christ’s sake. Show some class.”
“What, like Mother just did by insulting my fiancée?”
“She’s under a lot of strain.”
