Page 87 of 28 Summers
The parking lot of Roland Park Presbyterian is packed. There are signs directing people to park down the block; church vans will shuttle them to the funeral. When Ursula climbs into one of the vans, she wonders if maybe Jake was right. The other eleven passengers stop talking and gape at her. One surprised-looking older gentleman says, “Senator de Gournsey?”
She gives him a somber smile. Says nothing.
There’s a line to get inside the church. Ursula is impressed by the turnout. All these people, the accumulation of two lives—their friends, their coworkers, their neighbors, the mailman, probably, and the woman from the dry cleaner’s, fellow country-club members, their children’s teachers and coaches, the dog groomer. Ursula works twenty hours a day to ensure that American citizens are free and able to create this kind of community. But she’s jealous too. If Ursula died and her mourners were limited to those who felt genuine love and affection for her, the crowd would be three: Jake, Bess, and her mother.
Funerals are sobering for more than one reason. Everyone must ask:What will people say about me?
Ursula searches for someone, anyone, she recognizes. She attended three of Cooper’s weddings—there was one other, an elopement to the Caribbean somewhere—so surely she will find a familiar face. Cooper’s friend Frazier Dooley, the coffee mogul (Ursula remembers him because Jake pointed him out on the cover ofForbes), is there with his—girlfriend? wife?—who looks less like the punk-rock queen Ursula remembers and more like a proper trophy wife with sculpted arms and a Stella McCartney bag. Money will iron the kinks out of anyone, Ursula thinks somewhat sadly. Standing with them is a kid about Bess’s age, looking handsome but uncomfortable in his suit, blond forelock falling into his face. He must be Frazier’s son.
Marriage material for Bess!Ursula thinks, to cheer herself up. She already jokes about Bess marrying money, which Jake finds offensive.
She waits in line to pay her respects because part of the point of coming—the entire point—is so Cooper knows that Ursula cared enough to show up. It’s only Cooper and his sister receiving people. Ursula studies the sister; she can’t come up with the woman’s name.Maddieis what presents in Ursula’s mind, though she knows that’s not right. And what’s worse is the mortifying memory that seeing Not-Maddie elicits. The bathroom of the country club, Ursula in the throes of morning sickness when she was first pregnant with Bess, back when she thought—no, wasconvinced—that Bess was Anders’s child. And hadn’t Ursula nearly confessed this to Not-Maddie?
Mallory—that’s her name!
Ursula had come very close to confessing that hideous idea to Mallory Blessing, a complete stranger. She had stopped herself just in time because somewhere in her mind’s eye, she saw the trajectory of Mallory confiding in her brother and Cooper then feeling he needed to share the news with Jake.
There’s a hand on Ursula’s back. She turns to see an attractive woman in head-to-toe black Eileen Fisher with a stylish asymmetrical haircut and a chunky statement necklace.
“Senator de Gournsey?” she says. “I’m Leland Gladstone.”
The woman’s voice is brimming with easy self-confidence; she announces her name as though Ursula might recognize it. Does UrsulaknowLeland Gladstone? The name sounds vaguely familiar. Is she a newscaster? A columnist? Ursula can’t think any further because now it’s her turn to pay her respects.
Cooper sees her and his eyes widen; he checks behind her. “Jake’s not here, is he?” His voice sounds nearly hostile.
Ursula hugs Cooper. “I’m so sorry, Coop. Jake is in Atlanta on business and couldn’t get away. He sends his condolences, of course.”
Cooper nods. He looks overcome, exhausted and beyond exhausted, weary. “Of course,” he says. “Thank you for coming.” He looks past Ursula to Leland Gladstone, and his face softens. “Hey, Lee.”
That’s it, then; Ursula has been dismissed. She feels a tiny bit put out. She is, after all, a United States senator, and she made time for this today. But that, she supposes, was Jake’s point; there are so many people here that no one is special, and to be a special person and expect special treatment is just obnoxious.
Ursula moves on to the sister, Mallory. Whereas Cooper looks tired, Mallory appears absolutely devastated. Her eyes are like empty sockets; probably, she has taken a pill. She squints at Ursula hard, like she’s looking into the sun, and then she checks behind Ursula—looking for Jake, most likely. Because these areJake’speople, not Ursula’s.
“Hello?” Mallory says in a way that seems very nonplussed. But then she must remember her manners because she offers her stiff, cold hand. “Thank you for coming, Senator.”
“Ursula, please.” She shakes Mallory’s hand, although she wants to give the poor woman a hug. How awful for her, losing both parents in one fell swoop like that. “Jake wanted to come but he’s away on business. He sends his condolences.”
Mallory nods, though it’s not clear that she’s registering who Jake is.
“We’re very sorry, Mallory. Sorry for your loss.”
“Okay,” Mallory whispers. She, too, peers beyond Ursula to see Leland Gladstone, at which point Mallory breaks down and the two women embrace and rock back and forth, wailing. Ursula looks on for a moment and feels nearly jealous. Ursula doesn’t have a single girlfriend she could cry with like that. She never has.
An usher leads Ursula to the second row. She protests, whispering, “I should be in the back. I hardly…” But the back of the church is standing room only; the last available seats are up front. Ursula internally cringes. She hardly knew Mr. and Mrs. Blessing but she’s getting this prime real estate because she’s a senator. Jake was right; she shouldn’t have come. He always knows best. He’s a social genius; he can read people and situations better than anyone she knows. He should be an ambassador. Why is he not an ambassador? Ursula would like to walk right out of the church, but she’s made her bed, so now she has to lie in it; she sits down. The woman who was behind her in line, Mallory’s friend Leland Gladstone, takes the seat next to her.
Leland leans in and whispers, “I have tissues if you need them, and licorice drops. Would you like a licorice drop?”
Ursula is grateful for the kindness, however perfunctory. “Yes, please,” she says. “I’d love one.”
Leland opens a fancy little tin, European maybe, and hands Ursula a frosted hard candy the size of a pea. “I’ve been Mallory’s best friend since childhood,” she says. “I knew Kitty and Senior my entire life. I can’t remember not knowing them.”
“Mallory is lucky to have you,” Ursula says.
Leland gives a dry laugh. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “I’m difficult.”
“Well, then,” Ursula says. “That makes two of us.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Leland says.
