we huddled together for a long time in silence.
“Call me a wimp,” I said finally, rubbing my arms to get rid of the goose bumps. “But I don’t think I can go back inside. If there’s one rat, there’s probably more.”
Mac nodded in understanding. “I’ll call the Pied Piper.”
I gulped. “I know a guy.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.”
Chapter Five
The Bittermans had arranged a lovely service in the somber granite-walled auditorium on their sprawling property. The American flag was draped over Jesse’s casket at the front of the room, and chairs fanned out from there. Everyone who attended received a beautiful program designed by Marigold.
I had plenty of time to make some casual observations during the hour-long service.
The mayor and several members of the town council spoke, as did some of Jesse’s closest friends, including his two oldest buddies, Bob Madderly and Ned Darby. I’d met them a few times in the past when they got together over at Jesse’s house, so I recognized them. These were the two men who’d gone scuba diving with Jesse on his seventy-fifth birthday.
Both men were around Jesse’s age, but Ned appeared to be younger, taller and healthier than Bob. Ned also struck me as the more formal of the two, with his patrician profile, thick gray hair and charming smile. Bob had a bit of a gut, but despite the paunch, he seemed to be a spry old coot with a devilish gleam in his eye, very much like Jesse. I liked them both straightaway. Ned had briefly introduced his son, Stephen, to us before the service began. Stephen was probably about thirty-five years old, tall and nice-looking like his father, with sandy-colored hair and warm brown eyes.
Glancing around the filled room, I noticed three young uniformed servicemen standing in the back. At the end of Ned’s eulogy, Mr. Bitterman said a few more words followed by a short prayer. Then he left the podium and two of the military men approached the casket from either end. They took hold of the flag and began to fold it, first lengthwise, then back and forth in a triangle pattern, thirteen times, until there were only stars showing. As they folded, the third serviceman began to play a haunting rendition of Taps on his trumpet. It was a poignant performance with the notes echoing through the granite-walled room, giving me goose bumps.
The last man holding the flag tucked the edges securely into the fold, walked over to Jane, and presented it to her.
“On behalf of the President of the United States and the Chief of Naval Operations,” he said, “please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s service to this country and to a grateful navy.”
“Thank you,” Jane whispered, her eyes wet with tears. She wasn’t the only one. I was sniffling like crazy and I was willing to bet everyone else had shed a tear during that touching moment.
A minute later, Blake Bitterman announced that the indoor service was ended and quickly segued to the procedure to be followed for anyone accompanying Jesse’s casket to the burial plot.
Before the service, the girls and I had agreed that at least one of us would stay close by Jane’s side at all times. She was usually so capable and strong, but all of these rituals had to be agonizing for her.
Lizzie and I accompanied her to the burial ceremony while Emily and Marigold rushed over to the Inn on Main Street, a lovely old hotel where the reception would be held in the main banquet room.
A few of Emily’s employees at the tea shop were helping out the Inn’s permanent staff and would surely have everything under control so that once the two girls arrived, they would only have to check that each guest had plenty to drink and nibble on.
Jane and I showed up an hour later, after a brief, sad ceremony at the grave site. We were both surprised and pleased at the number of people who’d come to the Inn to pay their respects. A few of them, mostly old navy friends, had
“Call me a wimp,” I said finally, rubbing my arms to get rid of the goose bumps. “But I don’t think I can go back inside. If there’s one rat, there’s probably more.”
Mac nodded in understanding. “I’ll call the Pied Piper.”
I gulped. “I know a guy.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.”
Chapter Five
The Bittermans had arranged a lovely service in the somber granite-walled auditorium on their sprawling property. The American flag was draped over Jesse’s casket at the front of the room, and chairs fanned out from there. Everyone who attended received a beautiful program designed by Marigold.
I had plenty of time to make some casual observations during the hour-long service.
The mayor and several members of the town council spoke, as did some of Jesse’s closest friends, including his two oldest buddies, Bob Madderly and Ned Darby. I’d met them a few times in the past when they got together over at Jesse’s house, so I recognized them. These were the two men who’d gone scuba diving with Jesse on his seventy-fifth birthday.
Both men were around Jesse’s age, but Ned appeared to be younger, taller and healthier than Bob. Ned also struck me as the more formal of the two, with his patrician profile, thick gray hair and charming smile. Bob had a bit of a gut, but despite the paunch, he seemed to be a spry old coot with a devilish gleam in his eye, very much like Jesse. I liked them both straightaway. Ned had briefly introduced his son, Stephen, to us before the service began. Stephen was probably about thirty-five years old, tall and nice-looking like his father, with sandy-colored hair and warm brown eyes.
Glancing around the filled room, I noticed three young uniformed servicemen standing in the back. At the end of Ned’s eulogy, Mr. Bitterman said a few more words followed by a short prayer. Then he left the podium and two of the military men approached the casket from either end. They took hold of the flag and began to fold it, first lengthwise, then back and forth in a triangle pattern, thirteen times, until there were only stars showing. As they folded, the third serviceman began to play a haunting rendition of Taps on his trumpet. It was a poignant performance with the notes echoing through the granite-walled room, giving me goose bumps.
The last man holding the flag tucked the edges securely into the fold, walked over to Jane, and presented it to her.
“On behalf of the President of the United States and the Chief of Naval Operations,” he said, “please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s service to this country and to a grateful navy.”
“Thank you,” Jane whispered, her eyes wet with tears. She wasn’t the only one. I was sniffling like crazy and I was willing to bet everyone else had shed a tear during that touching moment.
A minute later, Blake Bitterman announced that the indoor service was ended and quickly segued to the procedure to be followed for anyone accompanying Jesse’s casket to the burial plot.
Before the service, the girls and I had agreed that at least one of us would stay close by Jane’s side at all times. She was usually so capable and strong, but all of these rituals had to be agonizing for her.
Lizzie and I accompanied her to the burial ceremony while Emily and Marigold rushed over to the Inn on Main Street, a lovely old hotel where the reception would be held in the main banquet room.
A few of Emily’s employees at the tea shop were helping out the Inn’s permanent staff and would surely have everything under control so that once the two girls arrived, they would only have to check that each guest had plenty to drink and nibble on.
Jane and I showed up an hour later, after a brief, sad ceremony at the grave site. We were both surprised and pleased at the number of people who’d come to the Inn to pay their respects. A few of them, mostly old navy friends, had
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