have come, but then Bree had called her up and suggested she and Bernie put in an appearance.
“Dear Catherine will appreciate it,” were Bree’s exact words. Libby didn’t feel as if she could say no. Of course, she never said no to Bree, as Bernie was the first one to point out. But how could you say no to the social arbiter of Longely? Half of Libby’s business would be gone. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ears. The names Voiton and Vongel were so similar. What were the odds?
And she’d wondered why no one looked familiar here when she’d come in. Why hadn’t she acted on that feeling? Why had she told herself she was crazy? Why hadn’t she taken a moment to read the sign more closely instead of rushing in like some crazy woman?
If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with the ovens at A Little Taste of Heaven she would have. She wanted to kick herself. Instead she reached into her bag to get a square of 70 percent pure Venezuelan chocolate before she remembered she’d eaten the last piece when they’d walked into the funeral home. And just when she’d needed it the most too.
Okay, Libby, she told herself. Relax. This isn’t the end of the world. The question was what to do about it. Of course, they could just sit through the funeral. But then they’d miss Mrs. Vongel’s mother’s funeral. And that would be bad.
Libby thought about what her mom would have done in this situation, but it wasn’t much help because her mom would never have gotten herself into this situation in the first place. She wouldn’t have been late and she would have stopped to read the card on the easel by the door. Libby bit at her cuticle with her front teeth. No. They’d just have to leave. Leave now. Libby turned toward Bernie and jerked her head in the direction of the door.
“Let’s go,” she mouthed.
Bernie raised an eyebrow.
Libby shook her head.
“Are you sure?” Bernie whispered.
“Absolutely,” Libby whispered back.
The man in front of her turned his head and said, “Have the decency to behave yourself.”
Libby could feel herself turning red. She wanted to shrink into the floor. She hated calling attention to herself. She was the person who waited to pee in the movies until it was over because she didn’t want to disturb other people, and now she was going to do something that would make everyone look at her. She could feel her heart start to race. Don’t be such a chicken, she told herself. Just do it. Now. She took a deep breath and stood up.
“Excuse me,” she murmured as she stepped on people’s feet. “So sorry.”
In the background she heard Bernie say, “She gets these really bad migraines. Can’t stop throwing up. That’s why we have to go. Now.”
Leave it to Bernie to make me into a public spectacle, Libby thought bitterly as she reached the end of the aisle.
“Migraine?” she said when they got outside. “I throw up? That’s attractive.”
Bernie shrugged. “It was effective. People let us through really quickly.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“I thought it was. Anyway, what else was I supposed to say? That we wandered into the wrong funeral by mistake?”
“You could have made up something else.”
“I did.”
“Something else.”
“This was the first thing that occurred to me.”
“Fine.”
“And by the way, your blouse is open.”
Libby looked down. The third button on her blouse had come undone. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” she wailed.
“If I had seen it I would have. It must have opened when you stood up. Remember, I followed you out.”
Wonderful, Libby thought. Now she was an exhibitionist as well as a funeral disturber.
“I’m coming apart at the seams,” she moaned.
“If you bought better quality clothes you wouldn’t have that problem.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Marshall’s,” Libby heard herself snap. “Not everyone can shop at The Most.” Let alone fit into their clothes.
Bernie made a rude noise.
Libby wanted to say that she didn’t see the sense in spending hundreds of dollars on a skirt, especially these days, what with the condition the oven was in, but she decided now was not the time to start a fight with her sister.
“Can we leave my clothes alone and concentrate on getting to the correct funeral?” Libby said instead.
“By all means. So where do you think the Vongel funeral is anyway?” Bernie replied. “This place is huge.”
Libby looked around. On this they could both agree. It was true. The Hanson Funeral Home was now extremely large. Libby remembered when the place could only accommodate two funerals, but in the past year Marvin’s father had gone on a building spree. He’d kept on adding room after room. Now the place could fit ten to twelve “bereavements,” as Clayton liked to call them.
“This is like one of those bridal palaces out on the Island,” Bernie remarked. “It just goes on and on forever. I’m surprised they don’t have the gold funeral room for the rich, the purple one for those with royal persuasions, and the green one for the ecologically minded among us. You know, themed burials like they do out in Hollywood. You could have the Viking funeral, the Roman funeral, the French Revolution funeral—that of course would come with optional knitting.”
Libby massaged her temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“No. The air freshener in here is giving you a headache.”
“Bernie,” Libby pleaded. “For once be quiet.”
“Fine.”
Libby watched her sister’s eyes rest on the huge bird-of-paradise flower arrangement in front of them. “And don’t say anything about that either,” she instructed.
“I wasn’t,” Bernie said, sniffing, even though Libby knew that she had been thinking it. “Except to point out that they’re bad feng shu. They’re blocking the energy flow.” And Bernie pointed in the direction of the entrance hallway. “I bet there’s some sort of directory in there.”
“Good thinking,” Libby said. She started trotting off in that direction.
She’d taken two steps when she could feel her pants begin to slide. As she yanked them up, she saw Marvin come down the hall. Oh no, she thought. Why do I always see him when I look like such a mess? She knew that he didn’t care, but she did.
“Thank heavens I found you,” Marvin said as he came toward them.
He was panting slightly and his tie was askew. That made
