twin giants, as alike in size and coloring as two bears.
"Mr. Hubbert, Miss Hubbert," Franklin said when he reached their step. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Samuel. We'll be heading home to South Carolina tomorrow. I wanted the chance to tell Miss Emily and all of you goodbye."
"Franklin. Samuel—how nice to meet you." Auntie Lil grasped each of their hands in turn and T.S. could have sworn that she gulped. He even thought that he saw tears glistening on her eyelashes.
His thoughts were interrupted by the well-timed arrival of Adelle and her followers. The group swept past in a flurry of black silk and rustling, not unmindful of the handful of photographers who had arrived to capture the requisite heartwarming shot in case no sensational murders popped up that day.
"Black net is making a comeback," T.S. observed.
"With that crowd, it never left." Auntie Lil waved enthusiastically as a scurrying Herbert hurried up the steps to their side.
"I am not late?" he asked anxiously, straightening his tie and smoothing down his thinning hair with one palm.
"Not at all. And don't you look marvelous. Isn't that a wonderful suit, Theodore? Theodore? Theodore.?''
T.S. did not hear her. A long black limousine had pulled up to the curb and an elegant figure was unfolding from the back. Lilah wore a simple black knit dress and a strand of real pearls. Her hair shone in the sunlight.
"What on earth are you looking so green for, Theodore?" Auntie Lil demanded.
The answers to her question emerged from the car behind their mother. Two young ladies in their late teens, each dressed in navy, stood on the sidewalk clutching their purses and shyly eyeing T.S. He was acutely aware that Lilah must have described him to her daughters. He wondered what she had said.
Herbert tactfully hustled Auntie Lil inside the church, providing T.S. with privacy.
"Theodore." Lilah kissed him on each cheek and the familiar smell of her gardenia perfume gave him strength. "This is Alicia. And this is Isabel."
T.S. nodded and managed a smile. Alicia and Isabel ducked their heads together, giggling, and looked up at him from under long eyelashes.
Any nervousness he felt was erased a few seconds later when he distinctly heard one of the daughters whisper: "He looks kind of like an older version of that actor, Richard Gere."
"Yeah," said the other. "Except really, really old."
Well, he would take his compliments where he could get them. He straightened his tie and escorted Lilah inside.
Vase after vase of lilies and gladiolus lined the walls on either side of the church. The smell of flowers wafted through the pews and sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, sending tongues of red and purple and blue tumbling exuberantly across the marble floor. The front doors were propped open and fresh air and sunshine poured down the aisle, filling the church with the promise of the living. It seemed more of a beginning than a goodbye. It was appropriate for Emily.
"Look at all these flowers," T.S. said. "Who in the world paid for them?"
Lilah patted his hand discreetly. "Let's just say that a grateful friend of mine who no longer has to back a certain show about Davy Crockett decided that he'd like to make a small gesture of his appreciation."
T.S. stared at the rows of people filling the church. Many were neighborhood residents, some were nothing more than curiosity seekers. A few were strangers, but even more were his new friends. He recognized many of them from the soup kitchen and it was hard to tell the volunteers from the homeless. Everyone was well scrubbed, subdued and seemingly at peace. Bob Fleming sat stiffly in a shirt and tie in a front pew, next to a radiantly healthy Annie O'Day, who looked equally uncomfortable in her dress. T.S. smiled. They were perfect for one another. Bob would need someone like Annie to help him rebuild.
Emily's coffin gleamed in the filtered sunlight, its rich brown mahogany finish glowing with the reflected glory of the stained glass.
"Good Lord," T.S. whispered. "You really went all out on that thing. It's big enough to hold Orson Welles."
"It's my money, Theodore," Lilah reminded him sweetly. "I have scads of it and I intend to spend it however I like."
"Well, then why don't you throw a few handfuls at poor Bob Fleming?" T.S. whispered. "Homefront really needs it right now."
"I know. And I will." Lilah patted his hand and shot him a private smile.
They found their seats next to Auntie Lil and Herbert.