The Fixer
Page 19

“No,” I told Adam, noting the relief that flickered briefly across his face. “We didn’t.”
CHAPTER 18
The next morning, I put on a faded black dress and went downstairs to wait for Ivy.
“Going somewhere?” Bodie asked me.
I didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Justice Marquette has a grandson who goes to Hardwicke.” As far as excuses went, that was a flimsy one. “He’s a friend of a friend.”
That was stretching the truth, given that I didn’t have much in the way of friends at Hardwicke.
Bodie raised an eyebrow at me. “So you’re going to the funeral.”
“Yes.”
“For the grandfather of a friend of a friend,” Bodie reiterated.
I shrugged and headed for the car. “It feels like the right thing to do.” I wasn’t talking about my tenuous connection to Henry Marquette, and we both knew it.
Maybe Adam was right. Maybe Ivy needed me. Or maybe she didn’t. But no one should have to go to a funeral alone.
“Theodore Marquette served this country long and well.” President Peter Nolan stood at the podium. He had a weighty presence and a powerful speaking voice. As he eulogized, Ivy’s hand found its way into mine. She didn’t keep hold of it for long. But even that fleeting moment of physical contact told me that I’d been right to come.
I knew in my gut that she was thinking about our parents’ funeral. My own memories of it were fuzzy.
I remember it was summer. My dress was blue. A pale baby blue that stuck out among a sea of black. I remembered being passed from arm to arm. I remembered eating food. I remembered being sick all over the floor. I remember Ivy carrying me upstairs. I remember my head against her chest.
“Most of us go through the day unaware of the impact we have on each other, the mark we leave on this world—but not Theo. He felt that responsibility, on the bench and in his daily life, to leave this world a better place than he’d found it. It sounds pat to say that he was a good man, a wise man, a fair man.” The president paused for a moment. “I’m going to say it anyway. He was a good man.” The president’s voice reached every corner of the chapel. “He was a wise man. He was a fair man.”
Stained glass cast colored light onto the casket, which had been wrapped in an American flag, like the flags that flew at half-mast throughout the country in Justice Marquette’s honor.
“Theodore Marquette was a husband who’d buried his wife.” The president’s voice rolled over me. Even giving a eulogy, its tone said trust me, listen to me, follow me. “A father who’d buried his son. He was a fighter who never gave in to grief, to opposition, to the days and the nights and the months and the years when life was hard. He played a mean game of pool. I know from experience that the only way the man could sing ‘Happy Birthday’ was at the top of his lungs.”
There was a scattering of chuckles.
“Theo was a proud grandfather, a devoted civil servant.” The president paused and lowered his head. “He left this world a better place than he’d found it.”
There were other speakers, hymns, prayers.
I remember it was summer. My dress was blue.
The pallbearers came forward: five men, a woman, a boy. I recognized the woman and realized that she and the men were Justice Marquette’s colleagues, justices who’d sat beside him on the bench. It didn’t matter whether they’d found themselves siding with or against him in court; there was grief etched into their faces as they walked in perfect step to carry the casket down the aisle.
The last pallbearer was my age. He was biracial, with strong features made stronger by the terse set of his jaw. The justice’s grandson. It had to be. I watched him, his stare locked straight ahead as he and six Supreme Court justices carried his grandfather’s casket out into the sun.
“Come on, Tess,” Ivy said softly as the funeral goers began to push out of the chapel. We made our way to the end of the pew. As Ivy stepped into the aisle, someone took her arm.
Adam’s father.
I froze, but as the crowd pushed gently forward, I snapped out of it and stepped into the aisle behind them.
“William,” Ivy greeted him coolly. She didn’t attempt to pull away from his hold. As they walked side by side, I found myself wondering who was leading whom.
“Lovely service,” William Keyes commented. “Though I found the eulogy to be somewhat so-so.”
I looked around to see if anyone else had heard him, but it appeared the words had only reached Ivy’s ears—and mine. Near the front of the chapel, Georgia Nolan stood next to her husband. She caught sight of me looking at her and smiled slightly. Her eyes stopped smiling when she saw the man on Ivy’s arm.
“Have you given any thought to our little chat?” William asked Ivy as we inched toward the exit.
“You and I don’t chat.” Ivy’s voice was matter-of-fact. William held the door open for her. Once Ivy stepped through, he turned back. To me.
“After you,” he said. I recognized the chess move for what it was—a way to get under my sister’s skin. “And who is this young lady?” he asked Ivy.
I would have put money on it that he already knew the answer.
“My sister.” Ivy answered his question, her voice pleasant, her eyes glittering with warning. “Tess.”
William Keyes smiled and laid a hand on my shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess.”
I barely managed to check the urge to roll my eyes. “Right back at you.”
William was not deterred by my intentional lack of social graces. “I understand you’re a student at Hardwicke?”
I stared him directly in the eye. “Guess word around here travels fast.”
“William.” A man about the same age as William Keyes initiated a handshake with him, causing Adam’s father to remove his hand from my shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“Royce,” William returned heartily. “How’s Hannah?”
I took that as my cue to make an exit. Ivy did the same. She didn’t say a word about William Keyes, but I could tell the encounter had shaken her. That made me wonder: just how dangerous was Adam’s father?
As we made our way down the steps, my sister slipped into a line that had formed in front of the justice’s surviving family.
“Pam,” Ivy greeted a tall, thin African American woman, taking the woman’s hand in hers.