She stared as his watery blue eyes filled with fake tears. She thought of the pain he’d put Beth through, cheating on her.
“Why would I believe anything you say?” she asked. “All you ever did was lie to my sister.”
“Don’t make me feel worse than I do.”
“Why did you have to go away?” Kate asked. “Leave for a week when she wasn’t feeling well?”
“Why did you?”
“I was working, not on vacation.”
“Look, I don’t like your tone, Kate. She was my wife. Not only am I dealing with her death, such a horrific death, but I’m going crazy over the fact she was probably raped.”
“It leaves you free to be with Nicola,” she said.
“Nicola had nothing to do with me and Beth!”
“Right. As if anyone believes that,” she said. And what if Reid was right? It would mean Pete had killed not only Beth but also Matthew.
“Hello, Kate, Pete,” Eddie Bryer said, entering the parlor in his black suit, hands folded across his chest.
Kate felt jarred at the sound of his voice, pulled away from her dark thoughts about Pete. Eddie belonged to the same beach club as her family, and she’d seen him swimming with his kids, showing them how to crack shells on Lobster Night. Kate was used to seeing him in a bathing suit, not looking like a mortician. His father had handled her mother’s funeral.
“Hi, Eddie,” she said.
“Words can’t express how devastated Barb and I are. We loved Beth; we just can’t believe this really happened,” he said.
Kate took his hand. His eyes were leaking; he sniffled loudly. He was their family friend, not just a funeral director.
“Thank you,” Pete said. “We’re all in shock.”
And at that moment, Sam walked through the door. She saw her father, and Kate swore she hesitated before walking over to give him a hug. Pete grabbed her in a hard hug, whispering in her ear. He started to cry, and the sobs rose and fell. Sam stepped back, and the look on her face was blank, skeptical.
“Oh, Sam,” he said. “Sweetheart, your mother. God, I loved her so much. What am I—what are we—going to do without her?”
That set him off again. His crying sounded the way someone thought grief should sound, and Kate didn’t see any actual tears.
Eddie walked them into his office, arranged three plush red-leather chairs across from his desk. Sam sat in the middle.
“These are very hard decisions, I know,” Eddie said, his voice still unsteady as he fanned brochures on the mahogany surface. “Now, Kate, I know the family plot in the Heronwood Cemetery has space reserved for you and Beth and your families . . .”
“Reserved?” Sam asked. “You mean you’ve already made plans to put us in the ground? Like a dinner reservation?”
Kate put her hand on Sam’s arm. She knew how weird it must seem to a kid—just as it had to her and Beth. Facing death young took hold and made you into someone else. “It’s okay, Sam. Your mom and I talked a long time ago—we both said we wanted to be cremated.”
“Whether that’s true or not, Kate—it’s up to me to say,” Pete said sharply.
“Of course,” Kate said, kindly for Sam’s sake, breathing deeply to keep her heart rate down and to keep from saying what she really felt: that he didn’t deserve the right to make any decisions about Beth.
“As it happens, Kate is correct,” Pete said. “Beth will be cremated, per her wishes, her ashes interred with her mother’s and Mathilda’s. Eddie, I want to purchase the best urn you have.”
“Okay, Pete. Count on it,” Eddie said. His eyes were red. He shifted in his seat, making an obvious effort to control his emotions.
“Fine,” Pete said. He checked his watch. Kate’s pulse started racing again. If he had killed Beth, it was obscene that he would be here, picking out a container to hold what was left of her. She watched his eyes flick at the time, knowing he had somewhere else to be, and she turned away so Sam wouldn’t see how furious she felt.
“Thank you, Eddie,” Kate said. “Excuse me, will you?” She left the office, Pete and Eddie murmuring behind her, and walked out of the building.
A slight breeze ruffled the tall green marsh grass. Two egrets stalked along the opposite bank, gleaming white, their long yellow bills pointing downward, ready to spear silver fish. She breathed the fresh air and tried to feel less furious, for Sam’s sake.
She started the car to get the AC running and checked her phone for a message from Lulu—nothing. But there was a text from Scotty—no words, just four red hearts. She watched Sam and Pete emerge from the funeral home. They stood close to each other, obviously arguing. She had opened the car door and started over when they came toward her.
“Kate,” Pete said. “I think it will be very traumatic for Sam to return to the house where the tragedy happened.”
“Where Mom was murdered,” Sam said. “Just say it.”
“The point is,” he said, “I don’t think you should be staying there right now.”
“It’s home,” Sam said. “It’s where I live.”
Kate almost smiled. Contrary Sam: just last night she hadn’t even wanted to talk to her father.
“Of course,” he said. “But for the time being. Just for a while. Don’t you agree, Kate? That it would be better for Sam to stay with you for now?”
Kate remembered the smell of the house. How even before she had approached Beth on the bed, some ancient part of her brain had registered her sister’s death. Even now, a day later, she tasted decay in the back of her throat. She wondered how long that smell would stick to the house. She didn’t want Sam to know it. And she didn’t want Sam staying with him. Because, if she hadn’t wanted to believe it before, seeing Pete cry his crocodile tears was convincing her that he really had killed Beth.
“Sam, please come back with me. I’d love it if you did,” Kate said.
“Do I even have a choice?” Sam asked.
“For now, no,” Pete said. “Let the adults make the decisions. You’re in good hands with your aunt.”
“Okay, fine,” Sam said, sounding annoyed to comply, just like she had at ten, when Beth would make her eat broccoli or tell her she had to stop reading under the covers and get to sleep.
“I’m really glad,” Kate said.
“I want to go to Isabel’s for the afternoon, though. We’re just going to hang out,” Sam said.
“That’s a good idea,” Pete said. “I’ll drop you off.”
“No,” Sam said while texting. “Rebecca’s meeting me at the soccer field. She’ll drive me over.”
“Stay close to your friends during this time. Kate, can you pick her up when she calls later? I have some things I have to take care of.”
“Yes,” Kate said. Pete’s words, “during this time,” rang in her ears. During this time when your mother is dead for the rest of your life, during this time when you realize nothing will ever be the same.
“I’m going now,” Sam said, her voice catching as she wrapped her arms around herself. “I hate this place. I want to get out of here.”