“A funeral is a social event. People loved Caroline. Some of those nasty little basement bloggers called her a ‘climbing vine,’ given her roots, but Caroline was a genuinely good person. She was kind and generous. Pair those traits up with money, and you have a recipe for social success. Even if her family came with more baggage than a Boeing Triple Seven bound for Disney World.” He grimaced. “I should’ve sent Harris out to buy her father a suit. Did you see that shiny getup he’s wearing? Looks like he made it out of a space blanket. I’d worry about photos, but the glare would blind anyone. Is he coming to lunch?”

“You will be respectful toward Caroline’s family,” I insisted, but my brain was stuck on something else he’d said. Caroline was a genuinely good person.

“I’ve never been anything but kind to Caroline’s relatives, son.” He frowned and walked away from me, shaking his head.

I don’t want to be married to you anymore. Why is that so hard to understand, Theo? Get out of my house.

I hovered at the edge of the alcove, refusing to let my brain revisit what had happened next. It was impossible to get enough air into my lungs.

“Is it time?” the priest asked me.

“I need a few moments alone,” I said. “Is there somewhere private?”

“Of course. Follow me.” He led me through a small portal, then opened a door, revealing a private chapel. There were candles burning in front of a statue of a beautiful woman whose face was clouded with sorrow.

“Take your time,” the priest added.

“Thank you.”

He shut the door behind me. I stood stock still, waiting for the panic to subside. My body shuddered as if I’d walked into a freezer. How could I go through with the funeral, or anything else? This day would be endless, just as the day before had been, and the next one would be. I didn’t know how I would ever explain Caroline’s death to our son.

Caroline was a genuinely good person, my father claimed. No, she wasn’t. She’d put up an amazing facade that fooled many people, but underneath was something hard and steely and vicious.

The quivering in my hands reverberated through my body. I approached the shrine, then collapsed on my knees—as if in prayer—but I had no words for a higher power. I hadn’t been raised with any religion, and I wasn’t even sure whom the statue represented. The Virgin Mary? Some dolorous saint with her eyes fixed on the next world because this one was too painful to bear? Instead, I gazed at the dozens of flickering candles, glimmering like beacons in a storm.