"That's not fair, Clara Sue, and this is not the time or the place to—"
"Clara Sue, you're behaving like a fool," Jimmy said. "He's right, Clara Sue," Philip added. "You're acting like a spoiled brat."
Clara Sue laughed, a wild, thin, hysterical laugh that carried over the heads of the nearby mourners, who widened their eyes in shock and surprise.
"Of course you two would take her side. You're both in love with her," she accused. The crowd of onlookers drew closer, their murmuring growing louder.
Philip's face reddened, and he drew his shoulders up as if he had been sharply slapped in the face.
"Shut your mouth," he commanded, and he stepped toward her threateningly, his hands clenched. Clara Sue stood firmly in place, not budging an inch, challenging him with her wry smile. I felt certain he was about to strike her, and all this at the foot of their father's freshly dug grave.
"Oh, Clara Sue," I heard Mother cry. I turned to see her swoon and faint into Bronson Alcott's waiting arms. Philip turned to go to her, too, and Clara Sue stepped forward toward me.
"Now look what you've done," she sneered.
"I've done?"
"Well, I won't rest until I've driven you out of here," Clara Sue continued, not in the least concerned about Mother. Those who had remained behind were gathered around as Bronson fanned her with his handkerchief.
"I'll hire lawyers; I'll find a way to get rid of you," Clara Sue promised hatefully.
"Do what you want," I said. "You have no respect for anything or anyone but yourself, and you are a disgrace to your father's memory," I added, turning to join the others around Mother. She still had not regained consciousness.
Bronson Alcott finally lifted her in his arms and began to carry her from the cemetery. People stepped aside and gaped in astonishment. Word of Clara Sue's outburst and vicious attack on me was spreading with electric speed through the throng of mourners, and all eyes were on us as we followed Bronson down the path and through the arch to the hotel limousine. Julius opened the door for him, and he carefully slipped Mother into the rear seat.
Mother's eyes began to flutter. They opened and closed, opened and closed.
"You'd better get her back to the hotel quickly," Bronson whispered. "I'll be right behind."
"Yes, thank you," I said. Jimmy, Philip and I got back into the limousine with Mother. Philip patted her hand, and to me, he looked just like Randolph used to look whenever he comforted her. She opened her eyes slowly and tried to smile.
"I'm all right," she muttered. "But is it over . . . is it finally all over?"
"It's over, Mother," Philip said. Mother smiled and closed her eyes again.
Bronson Alcott was already waiting when we reached the hotel. Philip and Jimmy helped Mother out of the limousine, but Bronson took her from them immediately, and she accepted his support. She was able to walk, leaning on his shoulder. Staff members stepped aside and watched as we all entered the hotel. At the far end of the lobby Mrs. Boston came forward to take Mother from Bronson Alcott. Mother turned and smiled appreciatively up at him, her eyes filled with more than mere thanks, I thought. Then Mrs. Boston led her into the family section and helped her up the stairs and into her suite.
"I'm sorry about the things Clara Sue said," Philip told Jimmy and me before we parted. "She's become a real problem for everyone, but I won't let her bother you."
"Maybe she just doesn't know how to handle her grief," I replied. "I don't want to think about it right now. I'm very tired myself," I said, "and I want to freshen up and rest before we have to greet people."
Jimmy and I went up to our suite and changed out of our mourning clothes. Later in the day the family's closest acquaintances, as well as others who wanted to pay their respects, arrived. Mr. Updike, Mr. Dorfman and I had decided we would provide some cakes, tea and coffee in the lobby. Mother remained upstairs in her suite, but Jimmy, Philip and I accepted sympathies and spoke with people. Clara Sue was nowhere to be seen, and, in fact, we learned later that she hadn't returned to the hotel.
Finally, hours later, Mother made one of her miraculous recoveries and came down to greet people, too. She was still wearing her rather stylish funeral dress. Condolences, expressions of sorrow, kisses on the cheek and the pressing of hands fed her need for attention well, and instead of growing fatigued as the day wore on, Mother gained strength. I heard her laugh once or twice and saw her beam her smile, especially at Bronson, who remained faithfully beside her the entire time.
After nearly all those who were going to pay their respects had done so, Jimmy, Philip and I retreated to a table in the kitchen to have something to eat. Like most everyone at the hotel, Nussbaum had put his sorrow into work and had cooked and baked enough food for an army of mourners. Despite my emotional fatigue, I was starving.
Mother retreated to her suite to have her dinner brought up to her as usual. No one spoke about it, but we knew she had invited Bronson Alcoa to dine with her.
"Clara Sue's not coming back to the hotel," Philip told us when he sat down at the table, "which is probably a good thing."
"What do you mean, Philip? Where is she?" I asked. "She sent word with one of her spoiled-brat friends that she was returning to Richmond," he said.
"Back to school so soon? But—"
"It's all right," Philip said. "I'm going to leave myself in the morning. There's no point in my remaining any longer," he continued, "and I can't miss my final exams."
Jimmy and I glanced at each other quickly and then looked down at our food.