“No, no,” said Angelina, placing the tray on a low table in a central spot. Carlos came over and began snacking immediately. Having missed dinner, I, too, was hungry and would’ve loved to dig in, but I didn’t want to appear too overeager. “This is time for family.”

“Callie’s just a friend,” Marion said, waving toward me. “So is Alan. And Ian. Please. I insist.”

Angelina hesitated in the doorway and then smiled.

“Nick is heating up a couple of different things. When he is all done, we will bring them in and join you.”

“Good.”

“And I expect every one of you to eat some,” Angelina added. “Everybody just picked at their dinner. You do not want to hurt Nick’s feelings.”

Next to me, Derek chuckled as Angelina left the room.

“She’s right about that, Mother. You haven’t been eating much.”

“Who can eat, darling? My heart is broken.”

The conversation went on from there, and I listened quietly, eating a few of the heavenly hors d’oeuvres as they were brought in. At one point, I offered to help with the coffee and Angelina accepted; together we brought in a large bubbling coffeepot, a tray of cups and saucers, and the sugar and cream. Once everyone was served, she and Nick sat on a low bench along the wall and joined in the conversation.

Despite the somber occasion, things did begin to lighten up somewhat after that. I think it started with Carlos trying to eat the cheese from around an hors d’oeuvre, which made Marion giggle, which in turn made us all laugh. We were punchy and exhausted and in need of a release.

Everyone began tossing out memories of Wendell—good memories of happy times. Obviously, this was a man who had been loved by those close to him. I listened to their stories, thankful that this was a family who believed in the Lord. Though they were mourning Wendell now for their own loss, behind the mourning was a joy, a complete assurance that he was with his Maker. I wondered how it would feel to mourn the death of a man who hadn’t had the assurance of heaven?

The only odd thing about the whole evening was that no one mentioned the fact that Wendell had been murdered. To listen to them, one would think he had gone in his sleep or suffered a heart attack. I suppose that was probably how it felt because his health had been so bad. Still, I thought it odd. If my father had been murdered and the killer had not been caught, that would be the only thing on my mind.