settling

     She knew almost everyone else there. Chairs had been set up, the same white plastic ones that would see a lot of use during wedding season, which was coming right up. She couldn’t remember seeing chairs in the cemetery before, but it made sense if there was going to be speaking. They called this a memorial service rather than a funeral. More agnostic, she guessed. She sat down on a chair in the back row. The front row was empty, awaiting the family members.

     There was a podium in front.  It was banked with flower arrangements to either side. All hothouse flowers, thought the President of the Garden Club. Nothing like the tasteful arrangement of seasonal—well on the mainland if not here—peonies and hydrangeas she herself had sent.  Reverend Paul sat in a chair to the side. He knew where his bread was buttered, Merideth thought. The church roof. And there was that foundation issue. The church wasn’t built on sand, exactly, but the rocks surely needed work.

    Half the island had turned out, it seemed like.  There were even some people standing. The old folks always turned out for funerals, but in this case it was also the sensational quality of the death. “Oh my goodness!” Merideth muttered. “Its Young Earl!” He had cleaned up nicely and was wearing a suit and tie. He sat down as far away from Merideth as he could get in the back row. She watched her son make his way through the hedgerow to stand in the back. In uniform, for once. He looked good in it, she thought complacently.

     They waited for a while. The day, for once, was calm. The faint sound of a lawn mower merged with the twitter of birds and the low voices of people gossipping. Merideth glanced over at Earl. He was chatting with a hippyish young woman she recognized as a frequent clam digger in the pond.  Seemed chummy with Earl.