« Of course he did. »
Across the table, Jennifer folded her hands tightly in her lap.
Their father’s funeral had ended less than two hours earlier.
The smell of damp earth from the cemetery still clung to her black coat.
Everything since that morning had felt unreal.
Their father, Colin Mercer, had never enjoyed attention.
He hadn’t wanted flowers.
He hadn’t wanted speeches.
He certainly wouldn’t have wanted strangers standing around pretending to know him.
« Just bury me beside your mother, » he’d written in the instructions he’d left with the funeral director.
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