“Thank you for coming,” Roberta said to Diesel and me. “We’ll have doughnuts after the ser vice.”
I felt Diesel smile behind me.
“Have you heard from your sister?” I asked Roberta.
Roberta motioned to the inside of the church. “Third pew from the altar on the left. She’s the woman with the pink streaks in her hair.”
We sat three rows behind Gail Scanlon, and her sister sat next to her for the short eulogy. I counted thirteen other people present. All but two were women. All were Roberta’s age. Eugene Scanlon was not in attendance. He was in Trenton awaiting his autopsy.
After the ser vice, the Scanlon sisters stood and filed out to the vestibule, where the buffet had been set. They were both stoic. Roberta was in a shapeless black dress. Gail was wearing a bright rainbow-?colored tunic top and flowing ankle-?length skirt. Neither touched the food. Roberta spoke to the few mourners who approached her, and Gail quietly stood to the side.
Gail looked at her watch and twisted the tunic hem in her fingers.
“She’s getting ready to bolt,” Diesel said, pushing me forward. “Talk to her.”
“I don’t know her, and this is so private. What will I say?”
“Tell her the blouse she’s wearing is pretty.”
“What?”
“Look at her,” Diesel said. “She’s chosen to wear something colorful. I’m sure it was deliberate. But now she’s feeling uncomfortable because she’s made herself even more of a misfit. A compliment would go a long way here.”
“That’s shockingly sensitive.”
“That’s me,” Diesel said. “Mr. Sensitivity.”
I crossed the room to Gail Scanlon. “That’s a beautiful tunic,” I said. “Is it handmade?”
Scanlon looked surprised, obviously astonished that someone would speak to her, much less compliment her clothes.
“There’s a woman in the Barrens who makes these,” she said, smoothing a wrinkle away. “I think they have positive energy.”
“Do you live in the Barrens?”
“Yes. Usually. Sometimes I travel.”
“I haven’t spent much time in the Barrens. People tell me they’re interesting.”
“They’re wonderful. My life work is in the Barrens.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a soul guardian.”
That caught me off guard. A soul guardian. I liked it, but I didn’t know what it meant. It sounded a little wacko.
“I protect endangered trees and animals,” Gail said.
“Someone has to speak for those who have no voice.”
“Like a tree.”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
And then it slipped out. The required statement I didn’t really want to make. “Sorry about your brother.”
“You’re in the minority” Gail said. “He was a miserable human being.”