“I know it’s a heartbreaking day for you, son.” My father waved one hand, carelessly gesturing at the church. “I tried to make it something Caroline would’ve enjoyed. The flowers. The music.” He stared at the scene in front of us as if in a trance. “White roses and Mozart. She loved his Requiem.” He chuckled softly. “Remember when she said she wished you could use it for your wedding? She thought it was romantic.”

Caroline and I loved not only the music but also the legend of the anonymous man who commissioned the Requiem and the composer who’d attempted to steal it after Mozart’s death. When we met, I discovered that underneath Caroline’s sunny exterior beat a heart that loved all things dark and gothic. That wasn’t anything I wanted to share with my father. “Thank you. I couldn’t have managed it myself.”

“Of course.” My father’s smile dimmed. “Did you tell the nanny she could sit in the family pew?”

“Yes. Teddy is closer to Gloria than he is to just about anyone else.”

“It’s bad optics, Theo. Imagine a reporter getting a photo of Teddy being comforted by the help during the service. That doesn’t look good for any of us.”

“You can’t imagine how little I care about optics,” I said.

“Well, I do. Why couldn’t you leave Teddy with your sister?”

“I wouldn’t entrust a tadpole to Juliet’s care.”

“That’s not fair. She’s great with animals.” He grinned at me, as if he’d made a terrific joke.

“Where’s Ursula?” I asked. Ursula was my stepmother, and the only person in my family whose company I enjoyed, even though I was well aware that her pleasant temperament was managed by a steady supply of wine and vodka.

“She had a little accident this morning,” my father said.

“What happened?”

“She fell and hurt her wrist. Harris took her to the doctor in case it’s fractured.”

Harris was my father’s assistant and bodyguard, all rolled up in one grim package. “She was drunk?”

My father glanced around, in case a pair of ears was too close, and nodded.

“I understand if you want to leave here to see her,” I said.

“And reward her little stunt by missing Caroline’s funeral?” My father shook his head. “Look at all these people. The biggest funeral our family ever had was my father’s. But we didn’t have all of these fine-feathered friends turning up for it. He was well off, but people looked down on him. The Motel King. This is like something you see on TV.”

“Don’t talk about Caroline’s funeral as if it were a social occasion.”