Lilian wired Arthur at a dozen addresses and finally got him in Miami. He arrived a day later than he’d said, but in time for the funeral. He’d been there for their father’s, delivering the eulogy which he’d cut short with emotion. He had appeared too, at Irene Putnam’s the spring before, standing a little longer at the burial while the mourners streamed like ink back to their cars. Lilian had seen him pick up something from the ground, a pebble or a leaf, and pocket it. He looked different each time he came, once wearing a loud tie, another time looking elegant and shady. On this visit he sported a worn-out cashmere jacket, dilapidated shoes, and was badly in need of a haircut. When Lilian pointed it out he replied that he’d so little hair it hardly mattered.

Lilian and Arthur walked through the house in Brookline discussing what to do with the things. Arthur threw out suspicious glances as he entered doorways, expecting to encounter his father’s ghost. Perhaps he did for the look of fright he had about him. Lilian asked him about life in Florida and he said, You can’t beat the weather, and discussed it no further. A number of phone calls came for him during his visit, from gravelly voiced men. He was particularly concerned with the arrival and departure times of the post, sending off a number of letters, and anxiously looking through the stack of mail which arrived.

The night after Mrs. Eliot’s funeral, Arthur stayed with the Finches on Joy Street. He mixed his second drink after downing the first standing up. Lilian thought of the old Arthur who used to make cakes out of daisy innards and serve them to her on rocks.

The children regarded him warily, not remembering the last time they’d seen their uncle — it had been a number of years before, but within a half hour the girls were climbing on him. He made Fay giggle which was not hard, and Sally laugh which was. Porter stood apart, gazing at him with interest.

After dinner Arthur sat with Gilbert by the fire talking of nothing in particular, using the polite tones of men who share a connection through a woman but, having little else in common, are never destined to be friends. Lilian joined them and they discussed what to do with the furniture and the house. The men had gotten somewhat sloppy by this point and Lilian attributed that to Arthur’s suggestion that they auction everything off. She proposed that instead of selling Curtis Road, Lilian and Gilbert and the children would move in and reimburse Arthur for his share. At the mention of payment, Arthur’s eyes shrank to a satisfied point and he nodded that it would be just fine with him.