Thanks to the morning’s distraction, specifically Cliff, I was running behind schedule and had to do the final preparations to Margaret Thurman while she lay to rest in one of the viewing rooms. As I straightened the collar of her blouse, I could almost hear my father chastising me for letting Cliff complicate my life. I had spent the last hour rushing about, dressing and applying makeup to Mrs. Thurman, all the while thinking of Cliff. I began to worry that Cliff had been sent to me by some mystical realm, or perhaps my father, as a way of showing me the hassles, as well as the heartaches of loving someone.
“Mr. Kane.” Mr. Thurman’s voice startled me from my solitary thoughts. I gasped, looked at my watch and realizing it was later than expected. I discreetly slipped the hairspray and ma
