“John? Do you understand?”

I held up two fingers, which she took to mean “Peace,” and she said, “Thank you.” On Monday, I’d explain that it meant two million dollars.

To be a little objective here, I understood that William, as a father, thought he was trying to do the best for his daughter. But he was also a control freak, and he had no clue about what was really best for Susan. Plus, of course, he hated me without justification. Well… we just never clicked. So this was about him. And instead of him talking to Susan, then to me, he got right down to offering me money to take a hike. And why would he think that John Whitman Sutter would take his money? Even after all these years, he had no idea who I was.

And on that subject, I would insist on a prenuptial agreement that gave me nothing more than what I came into the marriage with, meaning nothing. That should make the old bastard happy, but more importantly, it made me happy to know that I was going to remarry Susan for the right reason. Love. Well… maybe a new boat. In case I had to leave again.

Anyway, I was feeling like I was standing on the pinnacle of the moral high ground; my heart was pure, and my wallet was empty. So I should at least be allowed to have a little fun with the Stanhopes before they left.

I looked at both of them in the rearview mirror. Maybe they were dead. Well, we were going to the right place.

As we approached the funeral home, Susan said, “I know you don’t like wakes. No one does, but-”

“Depends on who’s in the coffin.”

“But try not to show how bored you are, and try to act appropriately.”

“I’ve grown up a lot in the last ten years.”

“Then this is a good time to demonstrate that.”

“I’ll make you proud to be with me.”

She smiled, took my hand, and said, “I was always proud of you, even when you acted like an idiot.”

“That’s very sweet.”

She leaned toward me, kissed my cheek, and said, “You look so handsome in that black suit.”

I pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home and said, “Thank you. Maybe I can get a job here.”

I realized that the Stanhopes were awake, and I wondered how much of our conversation they’d heard. They weren’t exactly hopeless romantics, but clearly they could see and hear that Susan and I were in love – despite her criticisms of my core personality. Well, Willie, if you don’t get it, then I feel sorry for you, and for Charlotte. They could really make life easier for themselves, and for us, if they’d just say, “We’re happy for you. Have a wonderful life.”

But they, like me, carried around too many grudges and grievances – but unlike me, they were deep down mean-spirited. And at the end of the day, this is where it all ends – at the funeral home.

The Walton Funeral Home in tony Locust Valley is like the Campbell Funeral Home on Manhattan’s Upper East Side – a very good last address.

This was where George Allard had been waked ten years ago, and also my aunt Cornelia, and my father, and too many other family and friends since I was a child.

Walton’s is situated in a nice old Victorian house, similar to and not far from my former office, and I suppose if I stayed in New York, then someday this is where I’d wind up because these places never seem to go out of business. People are dying to get in and all that. I like Parlor B.

Ethel, however, was in Parlor A, which is small and usually reserved for the elderly who have outlived most potential mourners, or for the truly unpopular. Like the Stanhopes.

I could barely hear the piped-in organ music as I signed the guest book, so I asked a guy in black to turn it up a bit and check the treble. Then we entered Parlor A.

There were a lot of flower arrangements along the walls, but not many people in the seats. The Allard family occupied most of the front row, but we went first to the coffin, and the four of us stood there looking at Ethel Allard.

She seemed peaceful – I mean, she wasn’t moving or anything – and the undertakers had done a good job with her hair and makeup. She wore a very nice lavender-and-white lace dress that looked like it was from another era. Good choice, Ethel.

Susan whispered, “She’s so beautiful.”

I agreed, “She looks good.” For someone who’s old and dead.

William and Charlotte commented that Ethel hadn’t aged much in ten years. In fact, she looked better than Charlotte, who was alive.

I said a silent prayer for Ethel, then I took the lead in getting us away from the coffin, and I turned and walked to Elizabeth, who stood, and was looking very good in black. We kissed, and she said, “Thank you for coming.”

I said, “She was a remarkable woman, and I will miss her.”

Susan came up beside me, and she and Elizabeth exchanged kisses and appropriate remarks. Susan asked her, “How are you doing?”

Elizabeth nodded and replied, “I’m happy that she’s with Dad now.”

Well… who knows where she is or whom she’s with.

Next, the Stanhopes greeted Elizabeth, and I could sense that there was some distance there on both sides. The Stanhopes were ostensibly there out of a sense of noblesse oblige, but really they’d come to see their daughter, and their few friends in New York, and I hoped their grandchildren. My being in New York was a bonus for them.

In truth, William and Charlotte had some issues with Ethel, mostly having to do with Ethel’s life tenancy in what had once been their property, and also having to do with the reason for that life tenancy. Not to mention Ethel not knowing her place, which Charlotte actually did mention, and which in turn went back again to Ethel screwing Augustus. Well, I guess William was happy that his father’s mistress was dead.

Elizabeth, for her part, I’m sure, never cared for William and Charlotte – who did? – but she’d been programmed over the years to be nice to them, and of course, she was very nice now and thanked them for coming all the way from Hilton Head.

Then Elizabeth, perhaps not recalling or not fully appreciating the Stanhopes’ feelings toward their once and future son-in-law, said to them, “Isn’t this wonderful about Susan and John?”

Well, you wouldn’t think that faces could freeze and twitch at the same time, but theirs did. Elizabeth got it right away and said, “Let me introduce you to my children.”

She introduced us to Tom Junior and Betsy, who we all remembered as little tykes, and they were good-looking young adults, and very well dressed and well mannered. Maybe I should try to match them up with Edward and Carolyn. We could start a dynasty. But for now, we all expressed our sorrow about Grandma’s passing.

Then Elizabeth introduced us to some other family members in Row A, and finally at the end of the row was Elizabeth’s ex, Tom Corbet, whom I remembered. Tom then introduced us to a good-looking man named Laurence, who Tom said was his partner.

Well, what can I say? These things are always awkward when exes are in the same room with their new loves, and it doesn’t matter much if the new love is of the same or the opposite sex. It occurred to me, too, that if things had gone differently Saturday night and Sunday morning, I might be sitting next to Elizabeth now, and I’d be greeting Susan, William, and Charlotte with cool indifference bordering on hostility. Goes to show you.

Anyway, because Tom had introduced Laurence as his partner, this quite naturally prompted William to inquire, “What business are you two in?”

Tom replied, “Wall Street,” and Laurence replied, “CBS News.”

This seemed to confuse William, who pressed on. “I thought you were partners.”

Elizabeth was all too happy to clear that up, and everyone had a little chuckle, except William, who’d just learned a new meaning to an old word that he didn’t want to know. Charlotte, even sober, never knows what anyone is talking about anyway.