We drove out of sight of the mowers into a section of large tombstones and vaults with dates from the late nineteenth century. Antonio eased the Cadillac down a narrow lane between the plots, and then stopped in the middle of several medium-sized family vaults.

"We're here," she said, crushing out her cigarette.

Antonio got out and opened the door for her, then for me. "This is a beautiful spot, Poppy. I wouldn't have thought of this," I said adjusting the cane underneath me. The sounds of the faraway city were barely audible.

"Follow me," she said to me as she took the basket from Antonio. "It's over here." She said something to Antonio in Spanish as she looked over at his watch. I followed her into the cemetery as he drove off.

She walked briskly out in front of me. The soft ground under the grass made it difficult for me to walk with the cane and I felt like shouting to her to set the basket down so we could eat here and I wouldn't have to walk any farther. She walked toward one of the larger vaults, a weathered and rain-streaked grey one. Two thick columns stood vigil on either side of the wrought iron double doors. Two squirrels scampered off as she approached. The vault was the size of a small carriage house. As I got closer I could make out more detail. The same symbol she had tattooed on the back of her hand was carved into the marble above the arched doors where the family name should have been. It hadn't occurred to me that we might be going to a specific place in here.

I continued my slow steady pace as she sat the basket down in front of the doors and turned to look at me. Fresh purple flowers sprouted from two metal vases in front of the columns. The surrounding tombstones were large and ornate. I glanced at them as I passed; Phillip Clairmonte 1820-1892 was carved into the base of an eight-foot-tall obelisk, Regina Duncan 1888-1889 lay underneath a weathered and worn, life-sized, kneeling baby lamb.

"This is a very special place for me," she said when I was about twenty steps away.

I looked into her eyes and pointed to the back of my right hand were her tattoo was. She saw my gesture but said nothing and offered no facial expression.

"Why is this place so special?"

"It's the resting place of my benefactor."

The outfit she wore made sense to me now and I felt awkward at being dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. At least they were black. The purple orchids in front of this vault were the only flowers in sight. "Do you visit here often?"

"I come here when I want to think," she said, removing a black skeleton key from her purse. She unlocked the doors and opened them one at a time.