Mourning Glory by Warren Adler Page A

and hearth."
    "Bullshit," Clara said, poking Grace in the ribs.
    "I would think," Grace said, "from the way
he spoke about her, it was so beautiful, he must have adored her."
    "Yes, he did," Sally said. "He gave her
anything she wanted."
    "He was scared shitless of her," Mike said.
    "Scared," Sally said. "No way. Sam Goodwin
is not afraid of anything. Frightened people don't get that rich."
    "He respected her," Clara said. "That's a
lot more than I can say for the way you two treat us. Right, Sally?"
    "I'll take this bastard. Warts and all."
    "They say that Jewish men are good to their
wives," Grace said, hoping it sounded more like a question.
    "These bozos could sure learn a lot from Sam about how
to treat a wife," Sally said. "Say what you want, Anne led a charmed
life. And I don't think he ever fooled around."
    "How the hell would you know?" Mike snapped.
    "Women know."
    "Women know shit," Mike said.
    "They know," Sally said, as if she was determined
for her own reasons to have the last word. Grace noted the sudden tension
between them.
    "If he did," Clara said, "Anne would never
know it. He'd never embarrass her. Not Sam. But then, you never know what goes
on behind the bedroom door."
    "Nothing goes on behind ours," Mike said, lifting
his hand in mock self-protection.
    "Your definition of nothing leaves much to be
desired," Sally said. She turned to those in the backseat. "To him
nothing means never enough."
    They were silent for a long time while each, Grace
supposed, contemplated their own relationship. She wished she had one to
contemplate.
    "Anne was tough," Bob said, turning to Grace.
"But she did have great taste. I did their landscaping. You had to be real
alert when you dealt with her. Tell you the truth, I liked her a lot. Poor
woman. I'll say this for Sam: He stood by her to the end. She suffered like
hell."
    "I guess I liked her, too," Mike agreed.
"Once I got past my anger, she was okay. I think she knew just how far she
could go. I'll say this for old Sam: He was a good soldier. He went
along."
    "He seems to have a lot of class," Grace
interjected. "And he's quite distinguished-looking."
    "And available. Are you married, Grace?" Sally
asked.
    "Divorced."
    "Well, there's your big chance," Mike chuckled.
    "They'll be crawling over him like flies on
honey," Sally said. She looked at her husband and poked him in the ribs.
"Stop thinking what you're thinking."
    "How do you know what I'm thinking?" Mike
protested good-naturedly.
    "I know where your thoughts come from," Sally
said.
    "I hope he finds what he wants," Grace said.
    "He will," Bob said. "Men like Sam always
find what they want."
    It was an observation that did not augur well for Grace's
ambitions. The competition alone would be daunting. How could she possibly get
a man like that to notice her?
    The mourners gathered under a green-and-white-striped tent
in front of a freshly dug hole. On the side of the hole was Anne Goodwin's
coffin, on a specially built contraption used for lowering it into the grave.
Grace took a seat next to the couples who had brought her.
    There were about a hundred seats, which were quickly
filled. An overflow crowd clustered in a semicircle around the seats. The
coffin was lowered into the grave as the rabbi read from a Hebrew prayer book.
Grace never took her eyes off Sam Goodwin, all her thoughts concentrated on how
she could possibly open up a dialogue with him. This was now the central
question in her mind.
    She watched him stand up, then reach down into the mound of
earth. He picked up a handful of dirt and threw it into the hole. It made a
hollow sound as it landed on the coffin, triggering in Sam a brief sobbing fit.
His pain transmitted itself to Grace, and she, too, began to sob. Again, she
wished she could take him in her arms and comfort him.
    Recovering himself, he wiped his eyes and returned to the
tent. At one point he lifted his eyes, which seemed to meet hers, lock into
them for a brief moment, then pass on. She