Susan suggested, “Tell them you’re getting married.”

“Why?”

“So they understand why you’re not returning.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“They’ll be happy for you.”

“They don’t care. They’re British.”

“Nonsense. Tell them.”

So I announced my good news, which would get to Samantha, via phone or e-mail, within nanoseconds. Well, it was 2:00 A.M. in London so I had some time tonight to e-mail her.

I pressed the send button, and off it went to London. These things should have a one-minute delay so you can reconsider, or at least get your wife or girlfriend out of the room.

Bottom line here was that I had been trying to cover all my bases and play all the angles. But in the final analysis, I needed to take a leap of faith and hope for the best.

If I had to leave Susan, it would not be because I wanted to leave her. It would be because I had to leave her to ensure her future, and the future of our children. It’s a far, far better thing I do, and all that.

Or, quite possibly, she’d make the hard decision for those same reasons. A mother’s instinct is to protect her children, and I understood that.

Susan asked me, “What are you sitting there thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about you and Edward and Carolyn… and how good it is that we have this time together.”

“We have the rest of our lives together.”

And that was the other problem.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

We arrived at Walton’s at 8:15, and as always, on the last night of the viewing, everyone who’d put it off was there, plus there was a large contingent of church ladies from St. Mark’s in attendance.

We went through the usual routine at the coffin – Ethel still looked good – then said hello to the front-row ticket holders, then worked Parlor A again, then checked out the lobby and the sitting room. I had a strong sense of déjà vu.

William and Charlotte were there, though I didn’t get the opportunity to speak to them. Actually, we avoided one another. My mother, too, was there, and I made sure to say hello.

Also there was Diane Knight, Ethel’s hospice nurse, which was nice, but I noticed that I never see the deceased’s attending physician at the funeral home. I guess that could be awkward.

I also spotted Ethel’s accountant, Matthew Miller, and I spoke to him for a minute about getting together for Ethel’s final accounting. I mean, you should not actually do business at the funeral home, but you can make appointments.

Susan’s luncheon companion, Charlie Frick, was also there, and I introduced myself and told her I’d gone to her museum earlier in the day. I let her know, “Nice place. Lots of artwork.” Then I drew her attention to the dreadful inspirational painting in the lobby, and said, “That would look good in the Frick.”

She excused herself and moved off, probably to speak to Susan about me.

I also ran into Judy Remsen, who’d been a good friend of ours in the old days, and she seemed delighted to see me. She already knew our good news and was very happy for us. This is the lady who had caught us in flagrante delicto patio, and I’m sure she remembered that every time she saw me. I didn’t mention the incident of course, but I did say, “Stop by next week and join us for sundowners on the patio.”

“I… yes, that sounds wonderful.”

“Call ahead.” I smiled.

She excused herself.

Then I ran into Lester Remsen, Judy’s husband, who had also been a friend as well as my stockbroker. Lester and I had had a falling-out over my bringing Frank and Anna Bellarosa to The Creek for dinner. Susan had also been at the dinner, of course, but she got a pass on that, as she gets a pass on nearly everything. I’m always the bad guy. But, hey, I just suck it up.

Lester offered his professional services if I should need them again. Defense stocks and electronic security were hot at the moment. I said, “Hazmat suits. That’s going to be big.”

I also saw the DePauws, the couple who lived in the house on the hill across from the gates of Alhambra, where the FBI had set up their observation post to photograph cars and guests arriving at Frank’s estate – myself and Susan included – and I asked him if he was still doing that for the FBI.

He said no, and the DePauws excused themselves.

Beryl Carlisle avoided me, and Althea Gwynn snubbed me.

It’s wonderful to be back.

In the lobby, I spotted the Reverend James Hunnings. This is a man who, as I’ve mentioned, is not my favorite man of the cloth, though he seems to be everyone else’s. So maybe it’s me. But I think it’s him.

Anyway, he spotted me, walked over, and said in his pulpit voice, “Good evening!”

“Good evening!” I replied, without, I hope, mimicking him.

“And how have you been, John?” “

“Great.” Until five seconds ago. I inquired, “How have you been?”

“I have been well. Thank you for asking.”

“And Mrs. Hunnings? How has she been?”

“She is well, and I will tell her you asked about her.”

I never understood why his wife hadn’t had an affair. She was actually quite attractive, and she had a little sparkle in her eye.

He asked me, “Do you have a moment?”

“Uh… well…”

“I would like to speak to you in private.”

Well, I was a little curious, but I also wanted to get to my cocktail. Decisions, decisions. I said, “All right.”

He led me up the stairs of the old Victorian house to a door with a cross on it, which I assumed was reserved for clergy of the Christian faith.

The room had a desk and a grouping of chairs around a table, and we sat at the table.

He began, “First, I want to welcome you home.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you will be rejoining the Saint Mark’s family.”

I guess he meant the congregation. It was hard to follow the newspeak after you’d been gone awhile. Anyway, this was my chance to tell him I’d become a Buddhist, but instead I replied, “I am sure I will.”

He continued, “I’ve heard, of course, that you and Susan have reunited.”

“Good news travels fast.”

“Indeed, it does.” He went on, “I assume you and Susan plan to remarry at Saint Mark’s.”

“That would be fitting.” Do we get the repeat discount?

“Well, then, I hope you and Susan will consider prenuptial counseling.”

I’d already gotten that from William, but I replied, “Well, we’ve been married. To each other.”

“I know that, John, but, if I may be candid, the circumstances of your separation and divorce should be addressed in a pastoral counseling context, which I am happy to provide.”

“Well… you know, Father, it’s been so long since we divorced, that I can barely remember what led us to that decision.”

He found that a little hard to believe – and so did I – but he advised, “Speak to Susan about counseling, and please get back to me on that.”

“Will do.”

He made a final pitch and said, “You want to build on a solid foundation, so your house will not crumble again.”

“Good analogy.” I had the uncharitable thought that Father Hunnings just wanted to learn all the inside juicy details of Susan’s affair, her murder of Frank Bellarosa, and maybe even our sex lives since then. I gave myself a sharp mental slap on the face and said, “I appreciate your concern.”

He replied, “I am just doing my job, John, and trying to do God’s work.”

“Right. Well… yeah. Good.” I glanced at my watch.

He continued, “And speaking of houses, I understand that you and Susan are living together.”

Who ratted? Well, I knew where this was going, so I replied, “I’m sleeping in a guest room.”

“Are you?”

“Of course.” This was really unbelievable, but you had to put yourself in his shoes, I guess. He had to be able to say he’d brought this up with one of the sinners, and that he’d made his disapproval known. I could almost hear him at the dinner table tonight with his wife – What was her name? Sarah? Really attractive.