“I’ll call you later,” he said. “And stop worrying. You’ll get wrinkles.”

I smiled. He was actually pretty sweet.

“Thanks.”

I stretched out on the sofa thinking I might catch a nap. I couldn’t tell you how much time went by, but when I woke up, it was dark outside, well past the cocktail hour, and Archie was at my door. He didn’t ring the doorbell, he was just calling my name, like Stanley calling Stella in A Streetcar Named Desire.

I got up to let him in and he stumbled into my hallway.

“Archie? Are you a little bombed?”

“I’m impaired. I won’t deny it.” He blinked his eyes as he struggled to focus in the light. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course,” I said and looked outside to be sure he wasn’t being followed by television cameras. The coast was clear. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Prolly not a bad idea,” he said. “Oh, hell, Holly. I’m a widower again!”

I began walking toward the kitchen.

“Yes, and you know you have my condolences, Archie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I know you didn’t think much of Sharon.”

“It doesn’t matter what I thought of her,” I said.

I filled a filter with ground beans and the well of the coffeemaker with water and flipped the switch.

“Of course it matters!” he said. “It matters what you think and it matters what my boys think. And I didn’t listen to anybody. And now she’s dead. I must be some kind of a bad luck charm.”

“That’s crazy talk.”

When the coffee was done, I filled a mug and sat down at the table with Archie.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Drink up,” I said. “So, is there a plan in place for a funeral?”

“Yeah, her family is planning it. They don’t want any input from me.”

“Hmm,” I said. “I know what that’s like.”

“Right? Holly, I’ve treated you awfully bad, and my boys, and I’m sorry.”

“Who’s watching the boys?”

“That woman Maureen has them both at her house. She’s got that kid Matt?”

“Are they spending the night there?”

“Yes.”

That was good. His sons didn’t need to see him as drunk as a dog.

“I’ll call her. I think you should be getting on home now. Tomorrow’s probably going to be a tough day, okay?”

“Okay. You’ll call Maureen?”

“Yes, I’ll call Maureen.” I stood up, a message that this visit was ending. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Thanks. Thanks for the coffee. You’re a nice girl, Holly. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Thank you, and yes, I think you’ve said it before. Now let’s get you up.”

“Okay, I’m going.”

Somehow, by God’s grace, he got to the front door and left. I called Maureen.