At precisely ten o’clock, a hush fell over the congregation as the Miller family entered. First came Marcia Miller, leaning heavily on the arm of the funeral director. She was swathed in a black veil reminiscent of the one Jackie Kennedy wore at JFK’s funeral. Next to her, holding her hand, walked five-year-old Sam IV, looking like a small solemn owl in his tiny blazer and short gray pants. The undertaker indicated the front pew and Marcia entered it, alone except for young Sam. Sue and Lucy exchanged a glance, and Lucy found herself working very hard not to giggle.

Following Marcia was Tom Miller, Sam’s younger brother, escorting his mother, Emily. Emily Miller, usually a hale and hearty type, looked very old and frail today. Tom helped her sit down and get settled.

Tom had always been considered something of a mama’s boy. He still lived in the big Miller house out on the point with his mother. Lucy had always thought of him as a pale imitation of his brother. He and Sam looked a lot alike, but where Sam had a fine head of glossy black hair, Tom’s was light brown and thinning.

Sam had always been a bit of a show-off. He drove the BMW with its SAM-I-AM plates, he had the glamorous wife and the architect-designed house with Palladian windows and an indoor pool. Tom, on the other hand, was often seen at local theater productions with his mother and was known to collect stamps. Lucy had long suspected that he was gay. After all, no one’s sex life was nonexistent, and since Tom didn’t have a public one, she assumed he must have a hidden one, though she’d never voiced her suspicions. Homosexuality was not an approved life-style in Tinker’s Cove.

The next three or four pews behind Tom and Emily Miller were filled with an assortment of more distant Miller relatives and senior executives of Country Cousins. Lucy noticed with satisfaction that George Higham was not included in this group, although she was sure he would have liked to be.

The organist struck a few familiar chords, and the congregation all rose to sing “Rock of Ages.” Then they sat and read together the Twenty-third Psalm. A period of silent prayer accompanied by several mournful tones from the organ ensued. Then, formalities completed, Dave Davidson, the minister, rose to deliver the eulogy. Lucy thought he looked awkward and uncomfortable standing before them in the black robe he wore for services. His hands clenched nervously as he grasped the lectern and gazed out at the congregation. He glanced once at Marcia Miller in the front pew and began.

“Sam Miller was a man everyone knew and no one knew. He was not a simple man; his life was a paradox. Sam himself was an enigma.”