The Land of Mango Sunsets (Continued)
I was wearing black, of course, and my most provocative black felt hat secured against the wind with an antique onyx hatpin, thinking I looked rather smart. Kevin, bald as a billiard ball with his thick round tortoiseshell glasses, was impeccably turned out in a deep charcoal pinstriped suit. He smelled as luscious as he looked. His lavender silk tie was dyed to match his shirt, jacquarded in the tiniest of damask rectangles. If we kept our sunglasses on, which we did, an onlooker might have assumed we were a couple, which we were not. I was his landlady and he was what my grandmother used to call a confirmed bachelor. However, strict definitions aside, we were the dearest of friends.
Finally, the service reached its conclusion and the pallbearers led the casket down the aisle. The bereaved family followed, leaning on each other, choking back tears. Even my heart made a little leap at their sorrow. It was bad enough that Mr. O'Hara died in the first place. Why did his family have to suffer the added indignities brought on by living in New York City? In moments like that I wondered why I had stayed in this God-forsaken place for so long. I shrugged off the question as quickly as I had considered it.
It was depressing to think about it.
But wasn't depression an eager companion, lurking behind everything including Christmas? Long ago I had sworn off that sorry dark suitor with his cheap wilting flowers and his promises of commiseration. I was far better served with Kevin's company, a stiff cocktail and a conversation with Harry, my bird who was so much more than a bird.
As we stepped out into January's afternoon light, countless tiny snowflakes swirled all around us. The steps of the church were partially covered in thin patches of white.
"Snow day," Kevin said dryly.
"You're not going back to the office?"
"Please," he said. "I need a Bloody. Don't you? Funerals completely bum me out."
I nodded in agreement.
"Take my arm so you don't slip. P.J. Clarke's is right around the corner."
Click here to find this book at your nearest independent bookstore.
