Emma nodded, her throat dry. She needed a stiff drink. They parked and Emma finally spoke. “Thanks for going with me. This is harder than I thought.”
“You never get used to it. You’ll go to other wakes and funerals, but it hurts every time.”
The thought of this happening again made Emma sick. They walked down the street, where a group of young men was gathered around the door to the funeral home. They watched Emma and Barb get closer. There were a few snickers, and Emma thought one said, “You lost.” Not a question, but a statement.
Emma glanced over her shoulder as one of the guys smacked another in the shoulder.
Then he stepped closer and said, “Mrs. Weiman.”
Barb turned around. “DeMarcus?”
He nodded.
Barb wrapped her arms around this guy as far as she could, which wasn’t much beca
