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speaks to the coroner about Mr. Arthur’s body, strips his
bed, and packs up his stuff. She interviews Mrs. Fannerife,
the woman who lives above Taylor’s, Mrs. Latanza of the
Homeowner’s Association, our neighbor Mr. Perwit, and
everyone else who’d known Mr. Arthur for years, then writes
his obituary and places it in the paper. Quietly, Aunt Marty
takes care of every last detail.
Most important, she postpones the Peach Blossom
Parade. Without Mr. Arthur as the Grand Marshal, nobody
feels much like marching, anyway.
That week, I learn what a true Goddess is.
Mr. Arthur’s memorial service is held in our backyard,
exactly a week after he died. Everyone in town shows up,
even people from Middletown and Leipsic. Even Mr.
Shabala from the Wawa.
Walter Maynard and his parents arrive with Mr. Perwit.
Right behind them are the Latanzas; Fire Chief Rankin; my
science teacher, Mr. Galloway; and his wife. Mr. Sheeak
appears with Kyle. Frankie comes with her parents and little
brother. Mrs. Fannerife hands me a bouquet of flowers; the
Serranos bring a coffee cake from the bakery near Pathmark.
“I won’t leave your side,” Celeste whispers in my ear,
clutching my arm. Frankie steps up and says, “Me, neither.”
Aunt Marty has turned Mom’s garden into an outdoor
chapel. Cushioned white chairs are arranged in neat rows on
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