“Perfectly suited.”

“Exactly that,” he said.

Solidarity

ADDIE

She arrived early, driving through a light snowfall, and went directly to the church hall. She was drained of feeling and walked heavily. She’d never been inside this church, and saw from the outside that it was old and stone, and that it presented a particular beauty against the landscape of spreading oaks and snow-covered lawns.

The connecting hall had been added in the present century and was designed to complement the church, so the impression she had, on first approach, was that this was a scene of peace and harmony. She knew that Greenley was about the same age as Wilna Creek; the church probably dated back to the late 1800s. Sybil would have attended Sunday school here. Probably church services, too, when she was growing up in the community.

Addie knew that the casket was already inside.

She had spent much of the previous day with Sybil’s family, helping to greet relatives as they arrived at the house in Greenley, keeping the teapot full, making sandwiches, giving directions to hotels and motels. She’d met some of the aunts and uncles and cousins over the years, but the people she knew best were members of the immediate family. She had driven back to Wilna Creek late in the afternoon and managed to sleep eight hours before returning: the longest sleep she’d had in months. At least she wasn’t responsible for the funeral arrangements. As executor, Sybil’s brother had taken over. There would be a simple service, after which the casket would be escorted by pallbearers to the exit, where a hearse would be waiting. The cemetery was at the end of the block, and those who planned to be at the gravesite could walk there from the church. Members of the Women’s Auxiliary had declared themselves responsible for food and drinks, which would be available after the service. These were already set up in the adjacent hall.

ADDIE HAD LET TYE know about Sybil on Wednesday, while she was still in Greenley, and he’d phoned her back when she was home in the evening. They had talked for a long time. He, too, had loved Sybil, but he wasn’t able to be present for the funeral. He was leaving Friday afternoon for the Karolinska Institute in Solna, just north of Stockholm. He’d be attending a conference on ethics and health care.

“Addie,” he said, “why don’t you join me? I’m going to be there eight full days, not counting travel. Phone the hospital, tell them you need a break. They’re not going to argue, especially at this time of year. You’ll stay with me, of course. If you’re okay with that. I’m booked at a decent hotel near the institute.”

“I can’t possibly; it’s too sudden. I’m right in the middle of—”

“I know you are. That’s why you can. Try to make arrangements for Monday. I won’t be presenting my paper until the middle of the week; I could meet you at the airport. We could even stay over in Stockholm for Christmas. Why not?”