Page 73 of The Housekeeper

Chapter Thirty

The funeral wason Friday.

It was a small affair, maybe fifteen people. Most of my parents’ friends had either died or fallen by the wayside over the course of the last ten years. A few of my friends and a couple of elderly business colleagues of my father’s showed up to pay their respects, as well as a handful of people who looked vaguely familiar, but whom I couldn’t quite place.

“Who’s that?” Tracy pointed with her chin toward several well-dressed women at the back of the small chapel.

“They work in my office,” I told her, nodding gratefully in their direction. I’d called the receptionist to say that I wouldn’t be in that week, and she’d clearly spread the word.

I’d made the decision not to take the kids out of school for the funeral, deciding that they were too young and it was too cold to make them stand beside an open grave watching my mother’s coffin being lowered into the ground and covered with earth. They hadn’t really known her all that well. She’d been bedridden for most of Sam’s life and virtually all of Daphne’s. The truth was that she’d been a scary-enough presence for them when she was alive, and I saw no need to subject them to further discomfort.

“Is Grandma in heaven?” Sam had questioned when told of her death.

I debated telling him that I didn’t really believe in heaven before deciding that I didn’t necessarily have to believe everything I told him, and simply answered, “Yes.”

Daphne looked suitably perplexed. “Is she standing up or sitting down?” she’d asked.

This time I answered honestly. “I hope she’s standing straight and tall.”

“Me, too,” said Daphne.

My husband, after some discussion and much equivocating, had opted to attend the writers’ festival in Whistler after all. “What good will I be doing here?” he’d asked. “I’ll just be disappointing a lot of people who have worked very hard to organize this festival, which they already had to delay a month because of scheduling conflicts, and this will only create more chaos. Besides, the time to pay respects is when people are alive,” he’d added, trying a different tack. “But I’ll stay, if that’s what you want.”

“I could really use your support,” I’d told him.

“Then, of course, I’ll stay.”

He went.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” he’d asked as he was waiting for the cab to take him to the airport.

“I’m sure,” I lied, tired of going around in circles until we ended up where he wanted to be.

There was no point in insisting he stay or trying to shame him into not going. Harrison had never had a good relationship with his mother. He’d cut her out of his life without so much as a second thought. He couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through.

How could he,I wondered,when I don’t understand it myself?

“Wish me luck,” he said with a smile, kissing me on the nose as he headed out the door. “Try not to ruffle any feathers.”

“Good luck,” I replied dutifully.

To nobody’s surprise, my father didn’t consult anyone about the service. He’d informed my sister of the location and time—the Mount Pleasant Cemetery on Friday at elevenA.M.—and she’d relayed the details, such as they were, to me. According to my mother’s wishes, there was to be no eulogy, no flowers, no speeches of any kind. A viewing, a few prayers, the burial.

Of course, Elyse was there, resplendent in a royal blue winter coat, standing a discreet distance from my father just inside the chapel doors. It was the first time I was seeing them since they’d accused me of stealing my mother’s jewelry. “Jodi…Tracy,” Elyse said as we entered the chapel, smiling at me with a warmth that almost took my breath away. “How are you girls holding up?”

“We’re doing okay,” Tracy answered.

“You look beautiful,” she said. “Both of you.”

“Thank you.” Tracy smiled, running her manicured fingers along the lapel of her down-and-lace black jacket. “It’s Valentino.”

“Nordstrom Rack,” I said, pointedly, of my own brown wool coat. I glanced toward my father, but he was talking to a former colleague and pretending he hadn’t seen us come in.

“Where’s Harrison?” Elyse asked, checking the empty space behind me.

Are we really doing this?I wondered.Are we just going to carry on as if nothing happened?“He had to go out of town,” I answered, deciding a funeral was no place to air our grievances, and that if she could pretend, then so could I. At least for now.

“Well, he didn’thaveto,” Tracy corrected.

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