Plantation (Continued)
At the same moment we bowed our heads in prayer with Reverend Moore, one hundred tuxedoed waiters from Atlanta were over on Lynnwood Drive, popping corks from cases of Verve Cliquot and arranging seafood and sushi on a sprawling bed of crushed ice. Silver platters were being filled with delicious finger food and a fifteen piece band with a horn section was going through a sound check. There would be a tasting bar for Mother's favorite bourbons and many pounds of Maurice Bessinger's barbecue would be hot and waiting in silver buffet dishes to be dolloped on tiny hamburger buns. No, in my head I could see the hustle and bustle of preparations. Trip and Frances Mae had absolutely done everything they could to give Miss Lavinia the send-off of the century. For once, I didn't have anything ugly to say about Frances Mae.
Millie and I had planned a more toned down and traditional reception for tomorrow afternoon, after we spread Mother's ashes. But, it too would be lovely. All these plans were spelled out in Miss Lavinia's final wishes. We had done our best to comply.
The prayer service ended and people began milling around again, offering condolences to us. Many of them were misty; Mother's best friends had wept openly, holding on to each other. They broke my heart all over again. I had known them all my life and to see them so upset was just awful.
I got up and walked over to Mother's casket. I was out of tears for the moment. Besides, Mother would have wanted me to keep my wits about me at her wake. Reconciling finding Mother's heart and then losing her so quickly was going to be my ultimate challenge. I prayed she would haunt me forever. Just because she was dead, she had no right to desert me.
I looked down at her in her casket and thought about how peaceful she looked. I was going to need her grit and wisdom to survive, every ounce of it. I wasn't even one third the women she was in her weakest moment. I had been a coward for far too long, hiding my emotions behind my Manhattan wardrobe of all black. I brushed back a lock of her hair, thinking how I loved her so desperately and how many years I had wasted mired in anger and resentment. Trip appeared at my side.
"You okay, Caroline?" His eyes were moist.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Lavinia would have loved this, don't you think?"
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