"If you'd like to step outside, we'll just—"
Gracie stood her ground. "Thank you, I'll stay. Mama is past suffering indignities, but as long as she's still under this roof, she is my responsibility."
Willis nodded. Gracie Dunham was obviously all business, and he admired a woman with grit.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and then began directing his helpers.
Within a few minutes, they'd managed to get Delia's body onto the Gurney, covered up, and strapped down.
"These are the clothes she wanted to be buried in," Gracie said, and handed him a paper bag with everything carefully folded up inside.
Willis took the bag. "Yes, ma'am," he said, then they started through the house, going room by room, then out onto the porch and down the steps to the hearse.
Gracie watched with an aching heart.
Mama was gone from this house.
Willis came back and handed her his card.
"We'll let you know when the body is ready. We won't put her in a viewing room until you are satisfied with her appearance."
"You have the casket she wanted?" Gracie asked.
"Yes, ma'am, we do. Everything will be as she asked. We won't let either of you down." He paused, then added, "We'll need you to come in and sign some papers so we can set a date and time for the service."
"I'll be in later today," Gracie said.
"Yes, ma'am. Again, we are so sorry for your loss."
Gracie watched from the porch as they loaded Delia up into the hearse. When they closed the doors, her gut knotted. She'd just given her mama up to strangers. Somehow, it all seemed so wrong, but she stayed on the porch, watching until they left the property, then went inside.
It was time to notify her siblings. She went to look for her cell phone, hoping she could get a good signal from their satellite service today.
She got out Delia's address book with all the names and addresses and sat down at the kitchen table to make the calls, but each time she punched in a number, it came up as disconnected.
First James in Houston, then Mamie in Austin. And then it hit her. These numbers were their old landline numbers! Most likely, they'd done away with them and only used cell phones now.
None of them had called her. They'd used the old landline in the house to call Mama until she’d forgotten who they were, and then they’d quit calling. Now that phone was gone. She had not heard their voices since that last Christmas seven years ago, when they'd all said goodbye.
Her last hope was Daphne, who lived in Dallas. When she turned the page to Daphne's name, and saw one number had been marked out, and another added below that. She had hopes it would be to a cell phone, and it was.
It rang, and it rang, and just when Gracie thought it was going to go to voicemail, Daphne answered in a breathless voice, as if she'd been running.
"Hello?"
"Daphne, it's me, Gracie. Mama died this morning," she said without preamble. "I tried to call James and Mamie, but their numbers are disconnected. If you want them to know, you'll have to tell them."
"Oh no! Gracie, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
"No. I am not okay. I haven't been okay for the past seven years. I will let you know when the service is held. Kindly do not show up here at this house before the services and pretend you are still part of my family. You will go straight to the church for the funeral and the dinner, and when it's over, you will all come to the house. There are things that have to be settled."
"But—"
Gracie hung up in Daphne's ear, then put her head down on the table and cried from frustration and rage.
She was a woman on fire, and for the past seven years, not one person had cared enough to even throw a little water on her, let alone put it out.
After the tears, she felt better. But it was moving on toward 10:00, and since Gracie had told Willis Decker she would stop by, it was time to get moving.
She showered and washed her hair, then began making a mental list of what she had to do in town as she tried to find something decent to put on that still fit her.
Daphne's phone call to James caught him off guard. She rarely ever called, and never at work. When he saw her name come up on Caller ID, he hit Save on his work screen and picked up.
"Hello?"
"James, it's me, Daphne. Gracie just called. Mama died. She tried to call you but got a disconnected number for both you and Mamie."
"Oh no! Oh man...I knew this day would come. What do we need to do? Does she—"
"She doesn't want shit from any of us. I've never heard such cold rage in someone's voice in my life. She will let us know the time and date later. We are not invited to the house early. We go straight to the church for services and dinner, and then go to the house only after it's over. She said there are things to settle."
James felt bile in the back of his throat and had to swallow hard so he wouldn't puke.
"Did you ever call her? I mean...after that last Christmas?" Daphne asked.
"No, but—"
"Neither did I. Did you ever check on them?" Daphne asked.
James's eyes welled. "No. I guess I thought if Gracie needed us, she would call."
Daphne's voice was shaking. "Except your number was disconnected. So, who the hell knows if she ever tried?"
"Oh my God," James said. "How will we ever make this right?"
"Just prepare yourself for the wrath, because I could feel it in my bones with every word she uttered. I'll text you info later, although you could call her yourself. She still has the same number from college."
Then the line went dead in James's ear.
He was a whiz as a CPA, but he'd fucked up his marriage. He'd fucked up his responsibilities as a father, and now it had come home to him what a sorry-ass son and brother he'd become.
He got up from his desk and went into his boss's office in a daze.
"Hey, Ralph, uh...my sister just called. My mom died."
Ralph Corrigan looked up, saw the devastation on James's face, and was immediately sympathetic.
"Oh man...James...I'm so sorry. My sympathies to all of you." He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where did she live? You'll need time off, of course. We can work around your schedule just fine. What days do you need to be gone?"
Ralph's kindness just made James feel worse because he deserved none of the sympathy. He would have felt better if Ralph had punched him in the face.
"She lived out on the family ranch not far from Sweetwater. I'm not sure about services, yet. As soon as I get a day and time, I'll let you know. For now, I just wanted to give you a heads up."
"Of course," Ralph said. "Listen, why don't you take an early lunch and then go home for the rest of the day."
"Are you sure?" James asked.
"Absolutely. Just let me know the name of the funeral home, and we'll send flowers. What was your mother's name?"
"Delia. Her name was Delia Dunham," James said and walked out.
Today was Mamie Freemont's weekly lunch date with her three best girlfriends. They were going to the Salt Lick just outside of Austin, and she was already anticipating the restaurant's famous mouth-watering barbecue.