Sarah continued her circuit of the room, saying hello to people she knew and offering her condolences to people who looked like they had known Yana. About halfway around she came across Realtor Keith Harley, who was busy conversing with the vice-president of the local association of Realtors. Unlike Tim, Keith was soberly dressed in a decent, charcoal gray suit and pale pink necktie, and he was clearly in absolute confusion over something. When Sarah came closer, she saw that he had been talking to the vice-president to tell her that by the grace of God, it could have been him lying on a cold slab in the morgue. Or rather, by now, six feet under in Kansas City, Missouri. The vice-president looked haunted, and Sarah took pity on her and cut Keith smoothly off in mid-sentence. The vice-presi
