“If she did she didn’t talk about it. All she’s been doing all morning is crying.” Malcolm paused. “She’s been crying all her life,” he added and turned and looked out the window of the car. It was an amazing confession from him, the only time I ever heard him criticize his parents. “She cried the whole time my brothers were in Europe. Then she cried when they came home.”

“They’re jittery people, those Tucker women,” Minx began, then changed her mind. “I mean, they’re very sensitive people, extremely sensitive and bright. They’re lovely women. Henry’s mother was an angel. I adored her.”

“They’re jittery.” Henry laughed out loud and laid his hand on Minx’s leg. “My mother was a nervous wreck.”

“I wonder if Aunt Gaye was in bed with him,” Minx said. “I’d like to think she had some happiness before she died. She was a slave to her husband. He bossed her around like a slave.”

“Don’t talk about it.” Malcolm had recovered his demeanor. “What difference does it make? She’s dead. Let’s talk about something else.”

“What’s his name? What is this man’s name that she was with?” Minx was pressing it. She had had two glasses of sherry with breakfast and she was on.

“His name is Tom. I don’t think we should talk about it anymore.” Malcolm was getting mad. He moved away from me.

“Oh, God. Like in Gatsby. Wouldn’t you know it, Henry.”

“Fitzgerald,” I said. “You know Scott Fitzgerald.”

“We worship him,” in unison.

“Oh, I do too. I worship him.”

“Have you read ‘A Diamond As Big As the Ritz’? It’s Henry’s favorite story.”

“No. What’s it about? Tell me about it.”

“It’s about this man who has a diamond as big as the Ritz-Carlton Hotel and he builds a castle on top of it and mounts antiaircraft guns on the roof so he can shoot down anyone who tries to take it. It’s this fantastic story.”

I leaned up into the front seat. Minx and Henry and I began to all talk at once, about Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker, the Algonquin Round Table, going to New York, going to live in Paris. We lit cigarettes. Smoke filled the car. We drove and talked. We pulled into the driveway of the funeral home and got out of the car, still smoking.