Chapter 9“I'm very angry with you,” Lydia scowled. Unfortunately blessed with an austere countenance, she also kept her dark-gray hair shellacked tightly in a bun on the crown of her head. Lydia wore an oversized suit jacket that hung on her body like last threads gripping a broken hanger in fear of eternal loss. Delicately balanced tiny glasses connected to a stringy beaded chain and chunky black orthopedic sneakers completed the peculiar outfit. Her pointy nose and chin, not all that different from a stereotypical cartoon witch, usually warned people not to mess with her.
Convinced she wouldn't make a scene in the middle of a funeral service, I let her quietly vent rather than defend my actions. “I'm terribly sorry for how everything exploded at the Mendel flower show opening. I had no
