It wasn’t much of a turnout, Shay thought, looking around her. Rosamond had made such a mark on the world, but it appeared that she had touched few individual lives in any lasting way. There was a lesson in that, but Shay was too distracted to make sense of it at the moment.

She wished for Mitch with a poignancy that came from the depths of her and when she turned away from the grave-side, he was there. He took both her hands in his.

“I just heard,” he said hoarsely. “Shay, I’m sorry.”

Shay nodded, her throat thick with tears that made speech impossible.

It began to rain and the mourners dispersed, carrying black umbrellas, their heads down. Shay stood in the open, facing Mitch, wanting nothing so much as to be held by him. He took her arm and led her toward his sleek blue car, parked behind the somber trio of limousines.

After settling her in the passenger seat and closing the door against the drizzling rain, he approached Riley and Garrett. Shay watched through the droplets of water beading on the windshield as he offered his hand, probably in introduction, and said something. The two other men nodded in reply and then Mitch came back to the car.

Shay didn’t ask what he’d told them; in essence, she didn’t care. “You’re here,” she remarked. That, for the moment, was enough.

Mitch patted her arm and started up the powerful car. “I’ll always be here,” he said, and then they were leaving the cemetery behind.

They were almost to Mitch’s house when Shay came to her senses. “I should go home. Hank is there, and—”

“Hank is all right.”

Shay knew that was true. Hank was safe with Maggie. He’d barely known Rosamond anyway; her death had little meaning to him except as something that had upset his mother. “I didn’t expect to grieve, you know,” she said in a small voice. “Rosamond and I weren’t close.”

Mitch was concentrating on the sharp turn onto his property. “She was your mother,” he answered, as though that made sense of everything. And in a way, Shay supposed, it did.

The rain was beating down by the time Mitch stopped the car in the driveway, and Mrs. Carraway stood holding the front door open as they dashed toward the house.

“I’ve made dinner,” the housekeeper said in the entry-way as Mitch began peeling Shay’s sodden suit jacket from her shoulders. “I’ll go home now, if that’s all right.”

“Be careful,” Mitch said, without looking at the woman. “It’s nasty out there.”

Mrs. Carraway hesitated. “Mrs. Kendall?” she said, her eyes steady on Shay’s face though it was clear that she would rather have looked away. “I’m truly sorry about your mother.”

“Thank you,” Shay answered. Her teeth began to chatter and she hugged herself, trying to get warm.

Mrs. Carraway went out and Mitch lifted Shay into his arms and carried her up the stairs and into his bedroom. The hot tub had been filled and the water steamed invitingly.