Mrs. McCarthy had soon come up with a tray of homemade food that I had eagerly eaten.

She had been standing over me, of course, to make sure that I didn’t devour it too fast.

We talked and laughed and had a great deal of fun over my breakfast when I was finally reminded that Emma’s flight would be coming in at six o’clock our time in the evening.

I was currently relieved of that worry, at least.

Tomorrow was Papa’s funeral.

I didn’t even want to think about it. I already had a black dress with me.

I don’t even know what possessed me to pack it in Arizona.

Maybe I already knew what was going to happen.

My eyes moistened, but I was getting too annoyed at my tear ducts to actually cry, so I just sat there, sullen and sulky until sleep came over me again.

I hadn’t gotten proper sleep for a few hours, and besides, I was sick, too.

My stomach felt full and content, and it gave a gurgle of pleasure as my eyelids started to close.

Another nap…just…great.