Mr. Tom Day was waiting on the steps. We introduced Minx and Henry. Then Mr. Martin appeared and took Tom’s arm and Mrs. Martin began to cry again and we went inside. A man in a dark suit greeted us and took us to a waiting room with brocade chairs in a line against a wall. The smell of gladiolus was everywhere. Huge sprays of pink and yellow glads were on every table. “The hairdresser is almost finished,” the undertaker said. “I hope it suits you. We did all we could. We’re so sorry for your sadness. So sorry for all this.” He took Mrs. Martin’s arm and led us into the chapel. Soft organ music was playing. A stained-glass window shone colored light down upon an empty platform. Two men in suits came out rolling a casket and lifted it and sat it on the platform. They raised the lid. One of the men reached inside and adjusted Aunt Gaye’s blouse. They stepped back. They bowed their heads. The music rose. “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses. …” The undertaker motioned to Mrs. Martin and she left her seat and walked up to the coffin. Mr. Martin came next, then Tom, then Malcolm and I, then Minx and Henry. We stood in a circle around the coffin. Mr. and Mrs. Martin and Tom had the head. Minx and Henry, the midsection, Malcolm and I, the feet. The body was wearing the blue suit. There was a corsage of orchids pinned to the lapel. I tried to look at Malcolm, but he would not return my look.

“I hope that suit’s all right,” Mrs. Martin began. “She was so fastidious. She never had a hair out of place. Oh, my baby sister. Oh, I’m losing my little Gaye.” Mr. Martin put his arm around her and led her to a pew. The rest of us continued to stare at the body. Aunt Gaye’s beautiful cold face commanded the room. Her lovely high cheekbones, her ice-cold mouth, her forever-lidded eyes.

“Dust into dust,” Henry began.

“Into the grave, the lovely, the gentle, the brave,” quoted Minx from an elegy she was composing. We all started crying at that. Minx started it and I joined in. Even Malcolm had a few stingy little tears falling down his cheeks. Henry took out a handkerchief and began to weep into it. Tom burst into a paroxysm of grief. A pair of undertakers appeared and led us back to the parlor.