the large one at the head of the casket and the two larger arrangements at the foot are from your brother and sisters."
Gracie eyed the elaborate arrangements of cut flowers with a jaded eye. Typical that they would think nothing of spending all this money on flowers Mama would never see and ignore all her birthdays and Mother's Days that had come and gone.
One arrangement—the one from James at the head of the casket—was made of white and yellow gladiola spears. The two at the foot were made of roses—one all white, and the other all pink. Gracie was neither impressed nor consoled by their presence.
Willis touched her shoulder. "I'll just leave you alone now. Stay as long as you want. Come back as often as you want. I know you did not set up a specific night for a family viewing, but we can—"
"No, sir, but thank you," Gracie said. "I'm following Mama's requests right down to the last period on the page."
Willis nodded. "Understood. Thank you for letting us serve your family. I had the honor of tending to your daddy, Tommy, and now I have had the honor of tending to your mama's service, as well. If I don't see you before, I will certainly see you at the church Friday morning."
And then he was gone, and Gracie was finally alone. Just her and Mama, the way it had been for the last nine years. She moved to the side of the casket, and then this time when she touched her mama's hand, she did not pull back.
"Well, here we are, Mama. We've had one hell of a ride, you and me, and as hard as it was, and as sad as it was, I need you to know that every step of the way, you kept showing me what it meant to be strong, reminding me how tough Dunham women can be. I love you, Mama. I was lucky to be your girl."
Then she took a deep breath, turned around, and walked out.
The moment she stepped out of the building, heat slapped her down, reminding her she was still in West Texas, and to get busy and finish what else she had to do before she melted where she stood. As soon as she got back in the car, she jacked up the air conditioning and headed for the Baptist church where her mama and daddy had gotten married.
The irony was not to be missed.
Same church.
Same dress.
Just different occasions.
Chapter Four
It was a few minutes past twelve when Gracie arrived. She grabbed the file and her car keys, then headed inside on the run.
The interior was dark, the air conditioner laboring somewhere overhead, as Gracie walked down the hall to the pastor's office. She was halfway expecting everyone to be gone to lunch when she heard a voice and followed it.
The door was open. She called out.
"Hello?"
Moments later, Brother Harp emerged.
"Oh, hello, Gracie. I was watching the noon news. Guess I had the TV too loud."
"No problem. I brought the eulogy," she said, and put the file folder in his hands. "There is a list of songs in there as well. I'll see you Friday."
"Let me walk you to the door," he said.
"No, thanks. I'm fine," Gracie said, and went out the same way she'd come in, leaving Brother Harp with Delia's last words and wishes.
Gracie was hungry, but she didn't want to go trying on clothes smelling like French fries and ketchup, so she headed for Bealls on Broadway to get the shopping out of the way first.
All she wanted was a little black dress and some shoes to go with it. She needed new everyday clothes, too, but she didn't have money for shopping. Maybe after Mama's life insurance policy came through. So, she drove toward Broadway with heat waves rising above the pavement like ghosts doing the shimmy on Halloween night, found a place to park, and hurried inside, heading straight to Gordman's for ladies wear.
Within moments of her arrival, a saleslady approached. Gracie knew her, but in a town the size of Sweetwater, if you grew up here, you weren't a stranger to anyone. The saleslady's name was Jolene, and she'd gone to school with Mamie. Gracie eyed the turquoise tips on Jolene's blonde hair, distinctly remembering mousy brown hair, and then Jolene was at Gracie's elbow ending her muse.
Gracie sighed.
She's gonna want to talk about Mamie or Mama, and I don't want to talk to people. I just need to buy a