And was I ready to let her do that?

Those were the questions of the moment, so I didn’t know if I needed a return ticket to London.

I e-mailed Samantha: I apologise (with an s), and I have no explanation for my lack of communication. We do need to speak, and I will call you Monday, latest. I left it unsigned, and without a closing sentiment, as she had done.

Well, that was a step in the right direction. I was never sure about Samantha anyway – I date women I couldn’t possibly marry, or who announced early that they wouldn’t marry me if their lives depended on it. It’s worked well so far.

The intercom buzzed, and I picked it up. Susan said, “I’m still on the patio with Edward and Carolyn, if you’d like to join us.”

“Be right there.”

I left my vodka in the office, went back to the patio, and took a seat.

Susan said, “I think I’ve explained the situation correctly and clearly to Edward and Carolyn, and we’ve agreed that us being a family again is our only consideration.”

I looked at Edward, then at Carolyn, and back to Susan. I really did hope that she explained the situation correctly and clearly. And I’m sure she did, in regard to her own possible financial punishment for remarrying Dad. But I wasn’t certain that she’d taken the next step and explained that Grandpa might extend the punishment of their mother on to them.

I said, “All right.” I added, “Subject closed. Who wants more champagne?”

Susan and Carolyn did, and Edward and I opted for Irish champagne – beer.

Susan and Carolyn volunteered to get drinks, and Edward and I sat there.

He looked at me and said, “I can’t believe Grandpa would do that.”

I replied, “We don’t know what he’s going to do.” I added, “His bark is worse than his bite.” Which was totally not true; the old bastard bit hard.

Edward, sensitive soul that he is, said, “He should be happy that Mom is happy.”

“He might be. We don’t know.” I suggested, “Why don’t we all put this out of our minds and just have a nice family reunion?” I added, bluntly, “Be nice to Grandpa.”

“Okay.”

I still didn’t know if Susan had told the children that they might have to live on their salaries for the rest of their lives. That didn’t bother me as much as the thought of Peter Stanhope, useless turd and soon-to-be brother-in-law, getting it all. Well, if the time came, I might be able to scare him into handing over some bucks to his niece and nephew, which was better for him than John Sutter holding him up in court for ten years.

Edward said, “Mom really loves you.”

“That’s why I’m here, Skipper.” I added, of course, “I love her.”

The object of my affection came out carrying an ice bucket with a bottle of bubbly, and Carolyn had the beer and glasses on a tray.

We sat there, talking under the gray sky, and now and then the clouds would break, and sunshine covered the patio and the Sutters.

We arrived at Walton’s Funeral Home at about 7:30 P.M., and we all signed the visitors’ book, which fortunately didn’t have Time In and Time Out columns.

This, the second night of the wake, would usually be the last viewing, but Ethel, God rest her soul, wanted to make sure that no one else rested, so – Held Over by Popular Demand, Ethel Allard, Appearing Friday Night for the Last Time Anywhere.

The Sutters went to the coffin, and we paid our respects to the deceased and said our silent prayers. Carolyn and Edward have not seen much death in their young lives, and they were clearly uncomfortable in the presence of mortality. Carolyn was actually crying, and Edward looked very sad. They both liked Ethel, and the feeling had been mutual, and I was happy that they were able to feel grief and loss.

Once more, I took the lead and moved us away from the coffin.

We greeted Elizabeth and her family again, and I took the opportunity to reintroduce Edward and Carolyn to Tom Junior and Betsy, whom they’d both not seen in at least ten years. I noticed now that there was an age difference of six or seven years between Elizabeth’s children and mine, which was significant at that age, but not an insurmountable obstacle if they liked each other. But perhaps the timing and the setting were wrong for me to try to fan the flames of passion. In fact, I didn’t even see a spark. Oh well.

Tom Corbet and Laurence were there again, and I gave Tom credit for being a good ex-husband and an involved father. My own performance as an ex-husband, I thought, had been appropriate for the circumstances, and I would have been a better divorced father if I hadn’t left town for a decade. But that was water under the bridge, over the dam, under my hull, and an ocean away.

I suggested that we move around, so we worked Parlor A a bit, then moved into the sitting room to see if there was anyone there that we needed to greet. You get points and give points for going to a wake, and everyone wanted their visit noted. We all get a turn in the coffin, so you have to do some advance work if you want a good crowd when it’s your turn.

Susan, Edward, and Carolyn spoke to some people they knew, and it seemed to be a different crowd tonight, so I knew a few people as well, including Beryl Carlisle, a married lady who used to flirt with me whenever possible, and who was now divorced, as I was – so what was I doing tonight?

Well, Susan and I were back together. Isn’t that great? And, in fact, there she is. Susan, come over and say hello to Beryl. Excuse me.

When I lived here, the bane of my existence had been weddings and funerals – too many of both – not to mention christenings, engagement parties, birthdays, and retirement parties. I mean, if we have to celebrate people’s life transitions, why not a divorce party? I’m in.

I checked my watch and saw that only twenty minutes had passed, though it seemed much longer. I made my way back to the lobby, where the exit sign beckoned.

Susan was supposed to be rounding up the troops, but she was taking her time, and I waited, staring intently at one of those quasi-spiritual paintings – this one had sunlight streaming through the clouds into a forest, where little sylvan creatures lived in peace and harmony. Dreadful. But better than making more deadly conversation with my fellow mourners.

Susan came up behind me and said, “We’re ready.”

I turned and saw that our group had grown. Susan announced, “Tom and Betsy would like to join us.”

That was a hopeful sign. But for some reason, my mother was also standing there, and she informed me, “Susan has also invited me to join you.”

How did she get here? I recovered nicely and said, “Grandma never needs an invitation.”

So off we went, with Edward and Carolyn bravely volunteering to ride with Grandma, who is new to driving, and has been for fifty years. Tom Junior and Betsy came with us, and they were happy to get sprung early from Walton’s, and they were chatty. Nice kids. I wondered if Betsy would like L.A. Tom told me he wanted to move to Manhattan. Or if he couldn’t afford Manhattan, then Brooklyn. Great idea.

We were shown to a round table in the dining room at Seawanhaka, and I made sure the kids sat together, and that Susan sat between me and Harriet.

The waitress took drink orders, but Harriet wasn’t drinking because she had to drive, though she drove the same, drunk or sober. I decided that Susan was the designated driver, so that left me to have a double Scotch on the rocks. The kids shared a bottle of white wine.

They all seemed to be getting along well, and we didn’t intrude on their conversation, except that I mentioned how much I loved Los Angeles. I think I also said that Brooklyn was becoming the Left Bank of New York. Susan gave me a little kick under the table.