I was busting-at-the-seams proud of Bill. It was easy to see where Caroline Bellefleur had gotten her graciousness.

Andy said, “I wouldn’t have taken the money if I’d known it came from you.” He’d evidently come straight from work, because he was wearing all his gear: a badge and handcuffs clipped to his belt, a holstered gun. He looked pretty formidable, but he was no match for Bill, even as sick as Bill was.

“Andy, I know you’re not a fan of the fang. But you’re part of my family, and I know you were raised to respect your elders.”

Andy looked completely taken aback.

“That money was to make Caroline happy, and I think it did,” Bill continued. “So it served its purpose. I’ve gotten to see her and to tell her about our relationship, and she has the Bible. I won’t burden you with my presence any longer. I would ask that you have the funeral at night so I can attend.”

“Who ever heard of a funeral at night?” Andy said.

“Yes, we’ll do that.” Portia didn’t sound warm and welcoming, but she did sound absolutely resolved. “The money made her last few years very happy. She loved restoring the house to its best state, and she loved giving us the wedding here. The Bible is the frosting on the cake. Thank you.”

Bill nodded to both of them, and without further ado we left Belle Rive.

Caroline Bellefleur, Bill’s great-granddaughter, died in the early hours of the morning.

Bill sat with the family during the funeral, which took place the next night, to the profound amazement of the town.

I sat at the back with Sam.

It wasn’t an occasion for tears; without a doubt, Caroline Bellefleur had had a long life—a life not devoid of sorrow, but at least full of moments of compensatory happiness. She had very few remaining contemporaries, and those who were still alive were almost all too tottery to come to her funeral.

The service seemed quite normal until we drove out to the cemetery, which didn’t have night lighting—of course—and I saw that temporary lights had been set up around the perimeter of the grave in the Bellefleur plot. That was a strange sight. The minister had a hard time reading the service until a member of the congregation held his own flashlight to the page.