Book One, Page Seventeen. A Deep Breath.
The priest who said the Mass for Lacey Lancaster's funeral was an old friend of the family. A little too old. He was retired and didn't say Mass much anymore. He kept losing his place as he read through the ancient formula that you'd think would be as firmly in his mind as his name. But he sounded as if he were reading it for the first time, and slowly, at that. His homily did not reveal that he knew or remembered much about Mrs. Lancaster.
Jerry was in the middle of the pew, regretting his decision to stay. He changed his mind when the Mass ended and the eulogies began.
"For those who do not know me, I am Lacey Lancaster's daughter Winifred," said the first speaker, in a voice Jerry thought too clear and strong for a moment like this. As if in asnwer to Jerry's thought, she continued, "My mother did what she wanted all the time, even if it was scary. She taught me and my brother and sister the live that way. I know I should be up here choking in sorrow about her passing, especially since it came so unexpectedly and at such a young age for someone who did all the things she did. I know we will have some difficult moments in the days ahead when we realize that our mother is gone. But if she suddenly opened her casket right now and saw me crying and babbling, she'd come up here, grab me and shake me, and tell me to pull myself together."
This brought quiet laughter and knowing nods. Jerry nodded, too, even though he only met Mrs. Lancaster a couple of times. Winifred kept on talking, but Jerry was paying less attention to her words than to Winfred herself. She riveted his attention. Was it the eyebrows? They made her look as if she were delivering news of the greatest importance. Yeah, that was it. Or maybe the set of her cheekbones, high and wide. Jerry mused that it was almost a masculine face, but that this was disguised by Winifred's feminine habit of continually pushing her hair back from her face.
"She would want us to live our lives to the full," Jerry heard Winifred declare, as if giving a motivational speech. "Let's honor her life by doing something big and bold today."
Winifred was gone two seconds after he last word. She sat down among her family, out of Jerry's sight. No other speaker stood up. The funeral director mounted the altar area and said that the burial would take place immediately, but that it was for family only. "For everyone else," he said, "we ask that you now carry on with the rest of your day."
So much for making a contact with these people about the old drugstore, Jerry thought--but wait. What did Winifred Lancaster just say? "Let's honor her life by doing something big and bold." On the way out, he saw Winifred helping Mr. Roquette out the door. Jerry rushed over to hold the door open wider, and was about to speak when Mr. Roquette turned, saw him, smiled, then said to Winifred, "Did you invite Doctor Wells here to the lunch at Antoine's?" he said. "
Winifred looked distressed at this suggestion. Jerry relieved her tension. "Oh, that's nice of you, but I have to get back to my office."
"Well, I understand that," said Mr. Roquette. He turned to Winifred again, and said, "But you call this man and invite him to lunch with me and you. He remembers all kinds of things about the old drugstore from a long time ago that I don't even remember. How about that?"
"Sure, Uncle Bobby," Winifred said. She looked up at Jerry. "I have your card. Thanks for coming." She opened the limousine door, and helped Mr. Roquette into the front seat. She closed the door, then looked at Jerry, again with those serious brows."Are you sure you want to have lunch with him? He can talk and talk."
"Sure, why not? Actually, I'd really enjoy that," Jerry said.
Winifred nodded, opened the door to the back seat of the limousine, closed the door, and smiled at him from behind the glass.
Something in Jerry's chest expanded to take in more oxygen.
