Barnaby left first, followed by Cindy. Alfred had to drive her home because she didn’t have a car. The widow had turned in early, and Anna Beth went upstairs to read to her, to help take the edge off the loneliness. Buck, Sarah and Marlene sat on the couch, Roby on a worn vinyl footrest. Jacob’s rocker sat empty beside the coffee table, and the four of them were turned as if Jacob still sat in it.
"I still say we sell it all," Buck said. "Except the tractor."
"When did you become part of ‘we’?" Marlene said.
"He’s my husband," Sarah said. "We share and share alike."
"He wouldn’t be saying that if Alfred was here."
"Don’t worry about Alfred," Roby said. He was trying to figure out a way to get Marlene out into the kitchen. He’d have to scrounge through the trash can and find some of the pie that he’d swept up. Then trick her into eating it somehow.
"Well, I don’t want to stay in these mountains forever. You ever been to that mall in Raleigh? They got a fountain right there in the middle of it, under a glass roof, and a hundred stores, half of them selling nothing but clothes. Name stuff, fancy, not those off-the-rack seconds we get in Barkersville."
"Marlene, why don’t you think about somebody besides yourself for a change?" Sarah said.
"Just ‘cause you’re stuck here don’t mean I have to be."
"We’re all stuck here. You’re part of this place, no matter how far you run."
"Now," Roby said. "You girls just lost your daddy. Don’t be at each other’s throats."
"Since when did it get to be any of your business?" Buck said.
"I’m almost as much family as you are."
"Why don’t you take your ass to the kitchen and let us work this out? Better yet, why don’t you just get on home? You’re way past polite, to be staying this late."
Roby knew it. There were unwritten laws to sittings, the food, the settling of affairs, the burial arrangements. He was a creature of habit, steeped in tradition, and had been to more sittings than he could count. He’d eaten dozens of death pies, he’d served up thousands of plates to grieving relatives. And easy rested those who’d trusted their hearts and souls to Roby.
Except for Jacob Davis Ridgehorn.
Roby stood. "Maybe you’re right, Buck. Forgive me, ladies." He bent low. "I reckon I’ll see you at the viewing tomorrow."
"Wait a second," Marlene said. "You going to help clean up the kitchen?"
"It’s the least I could do," Roby said.