“Recipe box on the shelves. By my chair. Call Patience if you need help. My mother taught us both together.”

“I wish you weren’t leaving.”

“Me, too. But my time is my time.” Her eyes opened again. “When you get sad, I want you to remember what I always told you. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. And I had you and my faith, so I was wealthy . . . beyond means.”

He found himself blinking hard. And he had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Beyond means.”

“It’ll be the same for you. Your children are the joy that makes everything else bearable, and you were mine. You have always been mine, even though you were born of another.”

“You are my momma. The only one I ever had.”

As tears rolled down his face, he felt her squeeze his hand one last time. And then she released her hold so that he was the only one gripping.

Lane stayed there for some time longer, watching her breathe. When the alarms started to ring, he reached over to an off button and killed the noise.

Outside the glass door, he saw medical staff gathering, but Tanesha Nyce was standing in front of the way in and shaking her head, protecting him and his momma.

“Momma? You still with me?”

This time, Miss Aurora did not answer him.

Out of respect for the family, Lizzie stayed out of the way, giving the nieces and nephews and sisters and brothers a chance to be closest to the door. There were medical staff hanging around, too, but when Tanesha had explained who Lane was to Miss Aurora, they had backed off after the alarms had been silenced.

Through the glass, Lizzie knew the moment Miss Aurora was gone. Even though Lane had his back to the hall, the death was in the way his shoulders slumped and his head lowered.

He stayed in there a little longer, holding the woman’s hand.

Then he got up and opened the door. As soon as he saw the crowd, he said roughly, “She’s gone home.”

People began to cry and hold each other, seeking comfort and giving it. And everyone went up to Lane, embracing him.

As Lane shared in the grief, his too-shiny, red-rimmed eyes sought and held Lizzie’s stare over the heads of the others. He seemed to have aged a hundred years.

When he finally came over, they just held on to each other. And then he straightened.

“If it’s a girl, we name her Aurora,” he said.

People instantly stilled and grew quiet. Especially as Lizzie nodded. “And if it’s a boy, it will be Thomas.”

Plans were made, arrangements set, practical matters handled. And everyone worked together: there was no discord, no jumping in, nothing but a family and a community who had lost one of its most important members helping to honor the woman’s memory.

Lizzie had to excuse herself a couple of times, her morning sickness stretching into the afternoon. And each time she came back, she could feel Lane watching her, checking to make sure she was okay.

Then it was finally time to go. No one but Max left.

Lizzie found herself feeling awkward around the man. He was so remote and unfriendly, even in the midst of the loss. Perhaps especially because of it.

“So,” Lane said as he stared at the glass.

The medical staff had given everyone plenty of space and Lizzie had certainly appreciated it. Then again, they no doubt had had way too much experience with where everyone was at in this first stage of mourning. Grief, she imagined, was a weekly, if not daily, occurrence on the unit.

“I don’t want to leave her,” Lane murmured. “I just want to make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“There are good people here.” Lizzie squeezed his hand. “They will make sure she is treated with dignity.”

As if on cue, an African-American man in a suit with a hat in his hands came around from the nursing station. “Mr. Baldwine?”

“Ah, yes?”

“I’m from the Browne and Harris Funeral Home.” He offered a business card forward. “I’m Bill Browne’s son, Denny. I’m here to take care of her as she prearranged. I’ll stay with her all the way from when she leaves this room to when she is transferred into my vehicle. She won’t be alone, and she will be afforded the same respect she had in life.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Taking the card, Lane grabbed the guy and dragged him in for a hard hug, and the man seemed like he was used to that, accepting the embrace and returning it.

“I think I know your brother, Mike?” Lane said as they separated. “Didn’t he teach at Charlemont Country Day?”

“Oh, yes. Mike’s still there. He’s the headmaster now.”

“My niece is going to start in the fall as a junior.”

“Is she? What’s her name?”

“Amelia. Amelia Baldwine.”

“I’ll tell Mike to look out for her.” Denny smiled. “It’s a good school. I was class of—”

“My class,” Max spoke up. “You were in my class.”

Denny frowned. And then seemed surprised. “Max?”

“Yeah, it’s me under here.” Max stepped forward. “Been a while.”

“Yes, yes, it has.” They shook hands. “Well, I’m going to start the process at the nursing station, okay? And you call me anytime. If you text me, I’ll give you updates as things progress so you’re certain she’s okay. The date for the funeral is all set, am I correct?”

“Yes, and she’s being buried at Kinderhook with her mom and dad.” Lane took a deep breath. “Send all the bills to me. I want her estate intact for her nieces and nephews, okay?”

“Her sister came in with her about three months ago and she picked out a coffin. . . .”

When there was a hesitation, Lane frowned. “It’s the cheapest one you have, isn’t it. She was always so damn frugal.”

“Well, I’m sure it—”

“Do you have anything in red? U of C red?”

“As a matter of fact we do. There are a lot of basketball fans in this town, as you know.”

“I want her in the most expensive, reddest coffin you’ve got. I don’t care what it costs—and if she’s pissed about it, she can come haunt me for the rest of my life. That way, I won’t have to miss her as much.”

“Yessir.” Denny bowed. “You’ve got it.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

As Denny went back over to the nursing station, Lane turned to his brother. “So.”

Just as Lizzie wondered whether she shouldn’t give them some time alone, Max nodded. “Yeah, so I’m going to take off.”

“Lot going on here in Charlemont at the moment. You might want to stay around for a little bit longer. Miss Aurora would have wanted you to sing at her service. You’ve got that voice she loved so much.”

Max shrugged. “They have a choir. It’ll all be fine without me.”

Lane shook his head, but it was obvious that he didn’t have the energy to argue with the guy. “Stay in touch. If you can.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

The two shared an awkward hug, and then Max jacked up his beat-to-crap jeans and stalked off.

“Come on,” Lane said sadly as he took one last look into the glass room. “And you need to drive home. I plan on crying like a little girl in the passenger seat so I can get it all out on a oner. That eulogy I’m going to have to deliver is going to kill me, otherwise.”

Lizzie fell in step with him. And then she had to bring it up.

“Does this mean Edward is free to come home?”

THIRTY-SIX

Edward’s first thought? As he sat in the interrogation room that he was beginning to think of as his second home at the jail?

Goddamn it, why in the hell did she have to talk.

As Detective Merrimack sat forward and put his elbows on the table, Edward had to admit, the man’s attitude had done a one-eighty. Gone was that patronizing smirk from the investigation. In its place, a calm, relaxed demeanor, backed up by a surprising respect.

“I didn’t want her to do this,” Edward said into the silence.

From over in the corner, Samuel T. was watching everything closely. The lawyer had insisted on coming down here even though Edward had earlier refused not just the man’s help, but that of the county’s pro bono defense attorney as well as several high-powered, nationally known lawyers.