Final Option

shudder I realized that he was one of Ruskowski’s men.
     
    Since Pamela planned to leave for Palm Beach the following morning, those wishing to express their condolences had no choice but to proceed to the house directly from the funeral. The crush of people quickly divided itself into two groups. In the living room the wing-tipped WASPs and their tasteful spouses sipped coffee and shook their heads over Bart Hexter’s passing. In the trophy room, where a bar had been set up, the traders and their big-haired wives drank and indulged in noisy reminiscences of the glory days of Bart Hexter.
    “Kate,” said Barton Jr., taking my arm as I waited for my coffee cup to be refilled, “I’m glad you’re here. Mother says that all of my father’s papers are boxed up for you in his study. Unfortunately, she hasn’t done anything about having them delivered to you. Do you think you could possibly make the arrangements?”
    “Sure. How many boxes are there?”
    “I don’t know. If you want, you can go and take a look.”
    “I’ll do that. Is there anything else I can do for you?“
    “It’s only another hour. Mother’s throwing everybody out at seven, if you can believe it. Her plane leaves at eight tomorrow morning. I never thought I’d say it, but I think her leaving is a good idea. Otherwise all of this would just drag on and on.” An elderly couple appeared behind him, waiting their turn to offer their condolences.
    “I’m going to check on those boxes,” I said. “Do you think you could spare a minute later on? You’ll remember that I told Carl Savage to come to my office tomorrow morning. You and I need to talk about formally terminating his employment.”
    Barton Jr. groaned.
    “We’ll talk about it later. For now, just point me in the direction of the study.”
    “It’s down that hall. Take a right, and then it’s the third, no maybe the fourth door on the left.”
    I set out optimistically, but the fourth door turned out to be not the study but the billiard room. However, it was not the majestical expanse of green baize that first caught my eye, but rather the couple exerting themselves on top of it. The woman was perched on the edge of the pool table with her legs wrapped around the waist of a dark-haired man who appeared to be busy trying to unbutton her blouse with his teeth.
    At the sound of the door the woman looked up. Krissy Hexter Chilcote stared wide-eyed at me.
    “Excuse me,” I stammered in retreat. I closed the door after me and let out a soft, involuntary whistle. I had just seen Fourey Chilcote talking to Ken Kurlander in the living room. Besides, Krissy’s husband’s hair was blond.
     
    It was definitely my day for walking in on people. I finally located Bart’s study only to find Jane Hexter sitting in the soft glow of a single lamp, crying.
    “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I said. “I’ll come back later.”
    “No, that’s okay. I have to be getting back to everyone, anyway.” She took a deep breath and dabbed at her eyes. “I guess the advantage of a funeral is you don’t have to feel embarrassed to be caught crying.”
    “You’re definitely allowed,” I replied soothingly. “Being pregnant makes it worse. All day long I haven’t been able to stop crying.”
    “You’ve had some pretty good reasons.”
    “That’s the worst part,” said Jane, suddenly back at the brink of tears. “I am so ashamed of myself. I’m not crying for good reasons. All my reasons are so... twisted. Do you know how I felt when I found out that my father-in-law was dead? I was relieved. It’s not that I hated him. There were many things about him that I admired, but when he died I felt set free. It’s hard to explain, but Bart was such a dominant personality. It was as if he’d lashed his children to him with his will—he controlled the water even as they tried to swim away.“
    “But you and Barton Jr. lived your own life. You didn’t do what Bart wanted, didn’t live the way he wanted you to live,” I protested.
    “No, at least we made a show of independence, not like Krissy. But whenever we made a decision we measured it against what Bart would have thought, like some inner metric. When he died I thought that it would be over, we’d be free. But now the man is dead and damn him, he’s gotten everything he ever wanted. We’re sucked into his life.” Jane raised her arms and dropped them in a gesture of despair. “We’re saddled with this monstrosity of a