“Grandma wouldn’t have liked that.”

“No, but she only complained to me. I’d tell May and Mona, and then Mom would say I had gotten what she said wrong.” Minnie sat back and ran a hand over her eyes. “I tried so hard to please her and never could.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. But it would be hard to think that’s the way she felt about you.” Skye patted her aunt’s hand and silently asked her grandmother’s forgiveness for lying about her. “I remember Grandma saying you were the one she could depend on.”

“You know, Mona and Dante treated her like a child and she never seemed to resent them. And May treated her so casually and still was her obvious favorite.” Minnie sniffed and wiped her nose with the paper napkin from the tray. “I must admit sometimes I resented all the time I spent trying to be a good daughter and not getting anything back.”

“That would be hard to take.” Skye knew how fragile her aunt’s mental health was and was reluctant to push her. Still, she had to find out if Minnie was the one who killed her grandmother. She tried to be as gentle as possible. “It sounds as if you’re saying it felt like she was throwing all your love and attention back in your face.”

Minnie didn’t answer.

Skye took a breath and silently apologized to her aunt. If Minnie was innocent, this was an awful thing to say, but if she was guilty, Skye couldn’t let her get away with murder. “It must have been a relief, almost, when Grandma died.”

Minnie shot out of her chair and threw the door open, banging it against the wall. Her normally soft voice shrieked over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean. I loved my mother and she loved me. I didn’t want her dead.”

People gathered from different parts of the house. The twins surrounded their mother and led her off into one of the bedrooms. May shot Skye a deadly look from the sink, while everyone else tried to pretend that nothing unusual had happened.

Vince went over to Skye. “I shouldn’t have pressed her so hard,” she admitted, whispering. “This could be the thing that pushes Aunt Minnie around the bend.”

He put his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. She’s had that turn signal on for twenty years.”

Roses Are Red, Lies Are Yellow

Wednesday, the day after the wake, Skye met her parents and Vince at the Reid Funeral Home and rode with them to the church. Saint Francis Catholic Church had been built back when Scumble River was first established in the 1850s. It towered above the other buildings, with walls clad in crumbling brown brick and faded gray concrete overhangs.

Almost a third of Scumble River’s population was Catholic, so parking was always a problem, unless you were among the first fifty cars and secured a space in the small back lot. Later arrivals used the side streets, often angering residents whose driveways they blocked.

In front of the church there was room for three or four vehicles, depending on the size of the car and its owner’s skill in parking. During a funeral the hearse and limousine took up those spaces.

Jed parked in back and he, May, Vince, and Skye entered the church through the side door. They found seats in the second pew from the front and waited for Father Burns to begin.

Dante and his family occupied the first row. Minnie and her brood sat in back of the Denisons. Mona and Neal were once again last. Skye could hear Mona’s complaints from two rows away.

The priest finally started the Mass and they all rose. Skye found it difficult to concentrate on the words of the service. She squirmed and plucked at her clothes as the heat of many people crowded together added to the already uncomfortable interior temperature. Her eyes were continually drawn to the closed casket. It looked much too large for a person of her grandmother’s size.

Eventually Father Burns’s words penetrated Skye’s thoughts. “I could stand up here and tell you that Antonia Leofanti has gone home to be with our Father and is at peace with Him in His kingdom, because that is true.

“I could stand up here and tell you that Antonia Leofanti lived a long life and left a wonderful legacy of family and love. That too is true.

“But when someone, old or young, is ripped from this mortal coil by violence, the question then becomes: Do we seek an eye for an eye? Or do we turn the other cheek?”

Skye missed the rest of what the priest said. Her mind latched on to his question and refused to let go. Vengeance or forgiveness? It was a tough call, but perhaps simple justice was the answer. She had always believed that the consequences should fit the action.

After the funeral Mass ended, Skye followed her parents numbly down the aisle. May climbed into the limousine with her brother and sisters, and Vince rode with the other pallbearers, which left Skye and her father together for the trip to the cemetery.

As she slid onto the front seat of her parents’ white Oldsmobile, and Jed settled into the driver’s seat, Skye looked at her father’s expressionless face.

The air-conditioned interior was a relief and they drove in silence for a while. Jed switched on the radio, then turned it off almost immediately.

“Dad?”

“Mmm?”

“How mad at me is Mom?”

“Aw, she’s not mad. She just doesn’t like things to be stirred up.”

“I didn’t mean for Aunt Minnie to have such a hissy fit.”

“Well, she’s always been real high strung. She’s been having those spells of hers since she was a teenager. She didn’t even finish high school because she had some sort of breakdown her senior year.”

“I never knew that.” Skye turned to look at him. “What happened?”

“If I remember rightly, Antonia and Angelo sent her to visit some relatives somewhere.” Jed scratched his head. “Seems to me they had Mona go with her.”

“Relatives? See, that’s exactly why I was trying to get the family history from Grandma before she died. I didn’t know we had relatives anywhere else.” Skye straightened in her seat as they entered the cemetery.

The black wrought-iron gates that spelled out Scumble River Cemetery and the narrow, tree-lined road always sent Skye’s imagination down dark paths, and her thoughts turned to the idea of mortality.

The graveside service was mercifully short, considering the heat and humidity. Father Burns led them in a prayer and then Simon guided them back to their cars before lowering the casket.

Skye picked her way past the graves, stopping to examine a monument shaped like a regulation-sized La-Z-Boy. Mementos had been glued all around it. A football huddled near a beer can, and golf tees were heaped next to a videocassette. The coup de grâce was an ashtray fastened to the chair’s arm, a faux cigarette made to look as if smoke were rising from its tip.

Where else but Scumble River would they make a monument out of a man’s bad habits?

May and Vince had both elected to ride with Skye and Jed to the luncheon at the new church hall. They entered a large room with folding tables and chairs and plain white walls. Although not fancy, it was at least air conditioned. They were among the first to arrive.

Skye noticed her mother’s pallor and fetched her a glass of cold punch. “Here, Mom, you look as if you could use this.”

May downed the liquid in one gulp and handed the empty cup to Skye. “Thanks.”

The silent treatment. Skye hated when her mother stopped talking to her. Usually May never quit chattering, so when she spoke in single words, Skye knew she was in hot water.

“Look, Mom, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“This isn’t the place to talk about it.” May spotted people beginning to arrive, and moved toward the door. She whispered over her shoulder, “Just stay out of trouble today.”

Skye was scanning the crowd for Vince when someone grabbed her arm from behind and yanked. She turned, swallowing a scream, when she saw her Uncle Dante.