Chapter 6: AshesRich women are too damn touchy, thought Ricky Hanlon. Anybody aboard the schooner Calliope might have asked Rosalie Gerber the same question: Why'd you bring a toy boat on a memorial cruise? Just making conversation, since they'd be stuck out here together for the next couple hours. But she'd snapped at him: This is the urn. And stalked off clutching it to her bosom: a scalloped white paper sail on a chopstick mast, jutting from the balsa-wood hull that held her mother’s ashes.
Aside from that bosom, Rosalie didn't look a bit like the portrait of Lanie Gerber propped on an easel below decks. Take away her fluttering black dress and Brad's Exmouth Yacht Club blazer and Rosalie was the spitting image of her dad.
Officer Hanlon stood where he could watch the mourners without
