Prior to the late 1800s, like so many others, Kane ancestors had been buried in family plots on their property, forever in peace with their husbands, wives, and children, but toward the end of the nineteenth century, the head of the family purchased numerous plots in Highgate Cemetery. Believing that he and his descendants deserved more than a grave lost in a field of flowers, he ordered a family mausoleum be erected so he and his descendants would have a resting place equal to their name.

The burial chamber was built into the side of a hill. With walls of granite and angelic statuary adorning the pediment above the entry as well as the columns right and left, it was as imposing as it was solemn. Prayers and poems were intricately carved into marble slabs decorating the walls and floors, and down the center of each section was a long granite bench, allowing those who mourned a place to rest or reflect.

When the question was asked of Addison, the answer came easily. By the time the mausoleum was completed, fifty bearing the last name of Kane had been assured a final resting place fitting their name and position and Robert deserved the same. It didn’t matter his surname differed from hers. In her mind, he’d forever be a Kane.

Even though she had a staff at her beck and call, Addison hadn’t trusted any with the arrangements. She was the one who had chosen a casket of solid mahogany. With its finish polished and its accents silver, she believed it befitted the man lying inside on the cross-pleated velvet of pale emerald green. She had asked her tailor to create a suit of the finest fabric for Robert to wear, and within two days it was delivered to the funeral director. The shirt chosen was white and crisp, and the tie was silk, with diagonal stripes in shades of green, but the last touch would forever remain Addison’s secret. Inside the breast pocket of his suit, she had asked a silver spoon be placed. If there were ice cream in Heaven, Robert would need it.

The limousine slowly made the turn through the open iron gates leading to Highgate, and Addison briefly looked to her left. She wanted to speak, to murmur a condolence to the woman grieving next to her, but Joanna hadn’t uttered a word in days.

Dressed in black and with her head bowed, Joanna sat silent, and lost in her thoughts and grief, the world around her ceased to exist. Her days had been spent weeping or staring off into space, numb and broken, so today, while different, was the same. She had become a bystander in her own life, her energy drained by the loss of the only family she ever really had. Joanna was alone now. Completely and utterly alone, and this day, like so many more to come, would slip into oblivion.

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