Inside, the display shelves had been cleared away for rows of folding chairs. Hannah placed her peace lily among the jungle of floral tributes on the white-draped check-out counter, then scanned the crowd for her mother.
She found her chatting with her poker buddies. Seeing her in good spirits and walking without her cane lifted a load off Hannah’s mind.
Really impressive, how the church ladies and the Sons of Italy Lodge had transformed the space into a dignified memorial chapel, even covering up the painted-on aliens with swaths of white bunting. A cloth-draped table next to the cosmic transmitter held Gus’s star-spangled urn. The old guy certainly picked out the perfect vessel.
“Rest in peace, Gus,” she murmured.
She followed the piano music to where her best friend Daphne tickled the electronic ivories beside a podium draped in purple satin painted with stars and a Latin inscription.
“Ad Astra per Aspera,” Hannah read aloud.
“Through hardship to the stars.” Daphne looked up from her electronic keyboard. “Perfect, right?”
“Your work?”
“Mostly Noah’s. You know how he loves an art project.” She flipped a page and played on, her long, slender fingers dancing over the keys. “I’m glad we could contribute something to a man who gave so much to Trappers Cove.”
That was Daphne through and through, sentimental to the core. Noah too—like mother, like son.
“Quite the crowd. Even more than I expected.” Hannah scanned the gathering. “Really makes you think, doesn’t it?”
Daphne nodded in her wise, quiet way. “Testament to a life well-lived. I hope my funeral draws this many.” She ended the hymn with a flourish. “On that heavy note…” Tapping a button on her keyboard, she switched to an eerie, spacy tone. “Talk to you after?”
“Absolutely. Is Noah here?” She scanned the gathering for a mop of sandy hair.
“Over with Ben’s family. Poor kiddo. He loved Gus.”
Hannah gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze, then found an aisle seat near the cosmic transmitter, decked out for the occasion with white ribbons and twining greenery. Most of the guests were still milling around, so she set down her purse to reserve her spot, then sidled toward a large cluster of immaculately dressed people with dark, curly hair like Xander’s. One of them, a slouching teen, tapped his phone screen. The woman beside him snatched it away. “Show some respect, Niko.”
“I hardly knew Uncle Gus,” the kid grumbled. When Hannah gave him a sympathetic smile, he rolled deep-brown eyes that were the spitting image of his…uncle’s, she guessed. Where was Xander, anyway?
She spied him in a corner conferring with Zora, their local psychic and crystal vendor, dressed for the occasion in a purple clerical robe and silver shawl. Poor Xander’s shoulders slumped as if weighted. When Zora gave his arm a comforting pat, he glanced at the transmitter and wiped his eyes.
Hannah’s heart squeezed hard, and it took every bit of decorum she had not to rush over and hug him tight.
Gaze downcast, Xander shuffled toward his family. A dark-haired, Chanel-suited matron intercepted him.
“It’s a scandal!” she hissed loud enough for Hannah to hear clearly and speared him with a pointy gaze that raised the hairs on the back of Hannah’s neck.
Xander’s shoulders inched toward his ears.
Yikes on bikes. Was this his mother? She eased closer to catch the thread of their argument. Not that she needed much evidence to figure that out. From the perfectly coiffed grandmother to the school-age kids, the Anagnos clan gleamed with affluence and social polish. A family like that and an eccentric funeral like this? Oil and water.
Under the pretext of checking the AV system, Hannah moved as close to the kerfuffle as she dared.
A stocky, seventy-ish man with thick black eyebrows hooked his arm through the angry woman’s. “Don’t stress yourself, Lydia. Agustus was always an oddball. It’s too late to change him now.”
“But what will people think?”
Another older woman patted her glossy salt-and-pepper bouffant hair. “What do you expect from a second son?”
Xander flinched. His mouth opened, then snapped shut.
She couldn’t stand it one more minute. Her new friend needed back-up, STAT.
“There you are, Xander,” she cooed, lacing her tone with a thick layer of honey. She flashed her schmooziest smile and hooked her arm through his. “Sorry to interrupt, folks. I just need to borrow this handsome guy for a quick sec.”
The mother raked Hannah with an appraising gaze.
