he feels the lack of a family. My wife and I have done our best to make him feel our home is his, but it just isn't the same."
As she watched Mr. Samuels shake hands with the minister, who had finally arrived to begin the service, she mused that traveling and bachelorhood certainly agreed with him. He looked at least fifteen years younger than Matthew had, although she had assumed they were nearly the same age. Although of moderate height, Samuels had a commanding presence, carrying his considerable weight well. Only the tiniest frosting of grey at the temples marked his thick, neatly brushed head of hair. His sideburns, beard, and mustache curled crisply around his mouth. What a striking contrast the two men must have made , she thought. She pictured Matthew, tall, stooped, with thinning grey hair and small paunch, wearing one of his rusty old black suits, standing next to this vigorous, handsome, elegantly dressed man. She found it difficult to believe that Samuels hadn't remained single by choice.
The minister then began to speak, and Annie realized she had been carefully avoiding the primary reason for being in this place at this time. Matthew Voss lay in the highly polished wooden casket standing slightly below her on the edge of the grave. And it was time for her to say her farewells and face the truth of her friend's death. On the surface, their relationship had been a business one. But she knew it was more than business. She had revealed a little of her history to him, something she had done with no other client. In turn, he had needed her, needed the chance to talk about his worries, to try out his ideas, to speculate about the future. And he had paid Annie the supreme compliment of accepting from her what help she could give. They had been true friends. Now he was gone, and she would miss him.
Remembering the first days of her own bereavement, Annie looked over at Matthew's wife, Amelia, and wondered what she was feeling at this moment. Would she truly mourn his passing? Or would there be anger, a sense of betrayal, or even relief? Would she have resented the fact that he turned to another woman, Sibyl, to share his thoughts and ask for advice? Perhaps not. From what Matthew had said about his wife, it was possible that Amelia Voss had been relieved that he had turned elsewhere with his concerns.
"Such a sweet Angel," Matthew once said, "but completely at sea when it comes to worldly things. It was her Southern upbringing, you know. Yankee girls are taught to be more practical. Her mother made me promise when I asked for Amelia's hand in marriage that she would never ever have to worry her beautiful little head about money. And I have been able to keep that promise up till now and will continue to keep it, God willing."
Annie smiled at this memory, thinking of how fervent the old gentleman had looked as he made this vow. Then the sight of Matthew's wife placing her wreath on the coffin as it was lowered wiped away her smile. Matthew was dead now, and if his assets remained missing, Amelia Voss would have to begin to worry about money. His promise would have been broken. Oh, how he would have hated that!
Moving slowly down the slope with others to place her flowers and give her condolences, Annie tried to say her silent goodbyes. But she was too angry to feel at peace. As she looked up, she saw she wasn't the only mourner with anger in her heart. Standing across from her, slightly apart from the rest of the family, an older woman glared fiercely into the grave being rapidly covered with flowers. She bore a remarkable resemblance to Matthew, but a Matthew filled with fury and despair. Almost as tall as Matthew had been, the woman had the same thinning grey hair, tied in a severe knot and covered by an ancient black hat with a veil thrust back to reveal her features. The thin shoulders that had drooped on Matthew were rigidly straight on her, and her long thin arms and the black-gloved hands were held equally
As she watched Mr. Samuels shake hands with the minister, who had finally arrived to begin the service, she mused that traveling and bachelorhood certainly agreed with him. He looked at least fifteen years younger than Matthew had, although she had assumed they were nearly the same age. Although of moderate height, Samuels had a commanding presence, carrying his considerable weight well. Only the tiniest frosting of grey at the temples marked his thick, neatly brushed head of hair. His sideburns, beard, and mustache curled crisply around his mouth. What a striking contrast the two men must have made , she thought. She pictured Matthew, tall, stooped, with thinning grey hair and small paunch, wearing one of his rusty old black suits, standing next to this vigorous, handsome, elegantly dressed man. She found it difficult to believe that Samuels hadn't remained single by choice.
The minister then began to speak, and Annie realized she had been carefully avoiding the primary reason for being in this place at this time. Matthew Voss lay in the highly polished wooden casket standing slightly below her on the edge of the grave. And it was time for her to say her farewells and face the truth of her friend's death. On the surface, their relationship had been a business one. But she knew it was more than business. She had revealed a little of her history to him, something she had done with no other client. In turn, he had needed her, needed the chance to talk about his worries, to try out his ideas, to speculate about the future. And he had paid Annie the supreme compliment of accepting from her what help she could give. They had been true friends. Now he was gone, and she would miss him.
Remembering the first days of her own bereavement, Annie looked over at Matthew's wife, Amelia, and wondered what she was feeling at this moment. Would she truly mourn his passing? Or would there be anger, a sense of betrayal, or even relief? Would she have resented the fact that he turned to another woman, Sibyl, to share his thoughts and ask for advice? Perhaps not. From what Matthew had said about his wife, it was possible that Amelia Voss had been relieved that he had turned elsewhere with his concerns.
"Such a sweet Angel," Matthew once said, "but completely at sea when it comes to worldly things. It was her Southern upbringing, you know. Yankee girls are taught to be more practical. Her mother made me promise when I asked for Amelia's hand in marriage that she would never ever have to worry her beautiful little head about money. And I have been able to keep that promise up till now and will continue to keep it, God willing."
Annie smiled at this memory, thinking of how fervent the old gentleman had looked as he made this vow. Then the sight of Matthew's wife placing her wreath on the coffin as it was lowered wiped away her smile. Matthew was dead now, and if his assets remained missing, Amelia Voss would have to begin to worry about money. His promise would have been broken. Oh, how he would have hated that!
Moving slowly down the slope with others to place her flowers and give her condolences, Annie tried to say her silent goodbyes. But she was too angry to feel at peace. As she looked up, she saw she wasn't the only mourner with anger in her heart. Standing across from her, slightly apart from the rest of the family, an older woman glared fiercely into the grave being rapidly covered with flowers. She bore a remarkable resemblance to Matthew, but a Matthew filled with fury and despair. Almost as tall as Matthew had been, the woman had the same thinning grey hair, tied in a severe knot and covered by an ancient black hat with a veil thrust back to reveal her features. The thin shoulders that had drooped on Matthew were rigidly straight on her, and her long thin arms and the black-gloved hands were held equally
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