Professor Swann looks startled to see me. “How kind, Emma,” he replies. “But I’ve got a—no—where is it now?” Patting his pockets, he eventually produces a purple handkerchief.

“She was a wonderful woman, your gram,” he says as he dabs his eyes. “Truly extraordinary.”

I thank him and worm my way through the crowd toward Dad, wanting to tuck myself under his arm.

“Isn’t anyone in this village under the age of ninety?” I hear Lily ask him.

Lily doesn’t approve of old people. Or people who smell funny, wear sweatpants, or don’t like her Instagram posts as soon as she uploads them.

Lily only approves of people like her. People with perfect shiny hair who go to Pilates classes on Saturdays and have the right shape of nose to look down on everyone else.

She’s probably almost relieved that Gram is gone so she doesn’t have to listen to her cough at night or kiss her soft, saggy cheek or pretend not to notice the crumbs that sometimes got caught between the folds of skin around her mouth.

Lily is good at noticing the outsides of people. She gets that from Mom, too.

Thinking about outsides makes me remember the spot between my toes again, and I’m just bending to examine it when Old Joe appears by my side.

“Between you and me, I don’t think your gram would have liked that service too much,” he says, one of his woolly eyebrows crooking.

“No,” I say. “She’d have thought it was boring.”

On my other side, Boomer thumps his brown-speckled tail, and Old Joe leans down to give him a good scratch behind his ears.

“Hey there, boy.” He straightens again. “You know, it was me who gave Boomer to your gram.”

“I know,” I say, grinning. “She said you got him to help you on the farm, but all he did was scare the cows. And when you realized he wasn’t much help at all, you left him tied on her stoop in the middle of the night.”

He snorts. “That old bat,” he says affectionately. “Never could believe a word she said to you. Anyway, some of us are heading to Gloria’s house in a while. To give her a real send-off, you know? Why don’t you ask your dad if you can come along?”

I think about accepting the offer, but honestly, I’d rather be alone right now. Or at least I’d rather not be around other people.

“Thanks,” I say. “But maybe some other time?”

“Sure thing, Emma,” Old Joe says, winking his goodbye. “You take care of yourself now.”

When everyone is looking the other way, Boomer and I slip out the back door. Mom will be angry I didn’t ask, but if I did, she’d probably want me to stay until all the guests are gone. Who knows how long that will take?