CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

ADIEU, BERTHE

CATHY’S SISTER CLAIRE MADE THE CALLS. Cathy was too bereft. There was a viewing at the funeral parlor Tuesday morning before the graveside service, then refreshments at the house. It had been totally unexpected, Claire said. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any suffering, but death was never easy. Emily hoped Max and Beatrice would show up. Even if none of them were speaking to each other, Cathy needed friends around her.

Before driving out to New Jersey, Emily stopped at William Greenberg Desserts for two pounds of assorted butter cookies. This was a sad occasion and she hoped two pounds would suffice.

The saleswoman in a starched chef’s apron assembled the cardboard box, lined it with a precut sheet of wax paper, then placed it on the scale. After asking if Emily had any preferences, she began filling the first layer from trays of cookies behind the glass display case. “No biscotti,” Emily instructed. “Heavy on the linzer and chocolate chip.” Even though she wasn’t keen on the almond cookies, they were always a hit with some distant elderly relation.

Small children with grandparents and nannies with carriages entered the tiny Madison Avenue store, standing in the long line for a sticky bun or mini pink-and-white cookie. Emily thought about each of the Greenberg cakes she’d ordered for Zach’s birthdays and now, after losing the baby two weeks ago, about the ones she never would.

The box was filled with layer upon layer of cookies. The woman pulled a length of red ribbon and began wrapping the box, winding it around her finger before tying it into a bow. Emily had never been to a Christian funeral before and was dreading the open casket.

“I’m going to a funeral,” Emily said. “Are cookies appropriate?”

“Cookies are always appropriate,” the woman said. “But I’ll give you a white ribbon instead.”

* * *

The men directing cars in the parking lot of the funeral home looked like mafioso types with deepset eyes and slicked-back hair, though more likely they were off-duty policemen looking to supplement their pensions. A guy wearing a white bow tie and windbreaker, eating a bagel, directed Emily to park at the far end of the lot. She signed in and hung up her coat.

Cathy and her family were greeting mourners in the front of the chapel, next to an arrangement of flowers. Cathy was wearing a floral dress and navy cardigan. Her hair had been straightened into a neat bob. She smiled and kissed people, clasping their hands as they offered soothing words. She seemed to be holding it together. Emily avoided looking at the open casket at the front of the chapel. She did glance around a bit and determined that neither Max nor Beatrice were there.

“Yes, it’s for the best,” Emily heard a short woman behind her say. “She’s at peace now.”

Emily almost said something, but refrained. They were probably casual acquaintances and she didn’t want to embarrass them. The line moved forward. It was almost Emily’s turn to pay her condolences when Max arrived on crutches.

“Thank you for coming,” Cathy said to Emily. “It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

She felt comforted by Cathy’s warm embrace. She smelled like lilacs. “How are you holding up?”

“It happened so fast,” Cathy said. “I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. But there was no suffering, which is a blessing.”

Standing next to Cathy was a short man with a white carnation in his lapel. A woman in a pale blue suit entered the chapel and sat down at the white piano. As soon as she began to play, the man with the carnation started sobbing uncontrollably. Cathy put her arm around him, trying unsuccessfully to console him.

At a loss for words, Emily glanced at the funeral program: Faithful Companion Funeral Home. Inside was a collage of family photographs: Cathy with a kitten in a basket; Cathy pushing a cat in a stroller; an older man, probably Cathy’s father, holding a cat wearing an Easter bonnet.

“Emily, this is my father,” Cathy said. “Dad, this is Emily, one of the women I met on my bike trip.”

“Your father?” asked Emily.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose into a white handkerchief. “Please call me Jack.”

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you.” Emily felt like throwing her arms around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He nodded solemnly. “Thank you, that’s much appreciated. At least it gives us comfort that Mrs. Beasley is with Dr. Doolittle, may he rest in peace.”

Emily finally got up the courage to look at the casket. Inside the wooden box the size of a bassinet, curled up on a pink knit blanket, was Mrs. Beasley with a catnip mouse.

Cathy smiled. “My sister left out one tiny little detail. My great-aunt almost fainted when she saw my dad. In case you were wondering, Dr. Doolittle was a Persian blue.”

* * *

After the service, Emily and the other mourners filed out to the parking lot. The funeral procession hadn’t gotten three blocks when it began to pour. The sky in the distance only looked darker and more ominous. The box of Greenberg cookies sat beside her. In the past, it would have been opened and all the linzer cookies would have been gone. But today it remained untouched. She no longer had the desire to eat in secret. They would be even more delicious shared, and there were enough to go around.

The immediate family sat on folding chairs under an awning set up around the graveside in Pet Lawn Memorial Park. Surrounding Mrs. Beasley’s eternal resting place was her beloved Dr. Doolittle, along with Sparky and China Lei, Cathy’s hamsters, who had both died under mysterious circumstances, and Cloud, her blue parakeet.

Emily stood on the periphery, barely able to hear the eulogy. The heels of her suede boots sank in the wet grass. Max was on the other side, shivering in a thin running jacket.

In the distance, marching determinedly up the hill, came Beatrice, her auburn hair tucked under a jaunty purple newsboy cap. Instead of her usual open-toe sandals, she had on a pair of patent-leather rain boots. From her purse, she removed a tiny umbrella the size of a peony. It seemed fitting for a woman who put herself first. Miraculously, when unfurled, it was as large as a beach umbrella.

Beatrice beckoned to the other women. Calling a silent truce, they all put aside their resentments, for now, and took shelter together under the umbrella.

Cathy started to cry. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Beatrice put her arm around Cathy. “I couldn’t very well leave you all to get washed away in the rain again, could I?”

The minister recited the Prayer of Saint Francis:

 

O Divine Master,

Grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled, as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved, as to love.

 

After the Lord’s Prayer, the casket was lowered into the ground.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Beasley,” Cathy said through her tears. “I’ll miss you.”

As they walked to the line of cars, the rain began to let up and the sun came out, but the four women still stood together under one umbrella.