people from all over the area.â
âThey will?â
The blue eyes twinkled. âYou havenât been keeping up with your sisterâs activities for a while, have you?â He opened the door to an outer office. âHold my calls, Tracy.â
âYes, Reverend.â
He gestured Betsy through the door to his office. âShe was a driving force in this town,â he continued, following her in and closing the door. âShe worked to improve the Common, to run the art fair, to aid the schools, to build this new church and repair the chapel, to get better fireworks for our Fourth of July celebration, to raise money for various fund drives.â
Betsy allowed him to seat her in a very comfortable leather chair, one of a pair. His office, while not large, was light and airy. She said, âI went with her to a committee meeting to hold a fund-raiser for a child in need of heart surgery. I didnât realize she did a lot of this sort of thing.â
âShe wouldnât have thought it a lot, she was always pushing herself to do more. Yet she was very patient with the rest of us, who couldnât keep up.â
âSounds like her eulogy should be given by you.â
Rettger gave a little bow from his seat facing herâhe hadnât gone behind his desk. âIâd be honored. I have known her a long while, and her husband even longer. Have you spoken with a funeral director?â
âYes, Mr. Huber. Heâs taking Margot to be cremated right now. When can you find time in your schedule for the funeral?â
Rettgerâs white eyebrows lifted. âNo visitation?â
âI canât afford it. I want a no-frills funeral service here, and then burial in the same plot as her husband.â
Rettger appeared to be about to say something, then visibly repressed whatever it had been and said, âLet me show you the two burial services of the Episcopal church. You have some decisions to make.â
It was not unlike selecting a wedding service. There was a framework of ceremony, with options in the hymns and readings. Rettger said, âI want to assure you that there are people in this congregation who are going to insist on having a part in the service. They would be insulted at the notion that you might offer to pay for their efforts.â His mild voice and kind eyes took the sting out of his words.
âAll right, thatâs fine,â replied Betsy. âNow, I know âAmazing Graceâ is a cliché, but we both loved that hymn.â A huge lump suddenly formed in her chest and sought to climb up her throat. But she swallowed it and went on.
Rettger took notes as Betsy made her choices, but had a suggestion of his own for the Old Testament reading, not one of the options. Betsy agreed to itâwhy not? His intentions seemed at least benign, and surely he knew what he was doing. The funeral was set for Sunday afternoon. âWeâll have to form a committee to let people know,â he said. âIt will be my great honor to take care of that for you.â
âThank you.â
Â
Even forewarned by Reverend Rettger, Betsy was astonished at the turnout. She recognized the mayor and decided the people with him must be others from the city government. Shelly was there, with a contingent of women who might be fellow stitchers, or perhaps some of the part-time crew. The crazy ladyâwhat was her name? Potter, Irene Potterâsat behind Betsy, dressed in a shapeless navy-blue dress, dabbing a handkerchief edged in black crochet lace to her eyes and sighing audibly.
There were children and adults and elderly, people dressed beautifully and people dressed very casually, and even some dressed rather shabbily.
Betsy had a black dress, but it was for cocktails, not funerals. So she wore an old purple suit that was too hot.
The music stopped and Reverend Rettger came out. To her astonishment, he was wearing white vestments. Then she
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