Jazz Funeral

for her.
    Then she had thought of Melody, of how very much Melody reminded her of herself, except probably not as talented. But still she wished the same for Melody—to get by, get through, with the music to help her.
    For the ninety-ninth time she wondered where the hell Melody was. How could a kid that young just disappear? And why didn’t she call? She didn’t want to think about possible answers.
    She said to Nick: “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about Ham’s little sister.”
    He smiled. “Your protegee.”
    “My missing protegee.”
    He put his arms around her. His sweetness made her think of Ham, and she felt panicky, as if she were about to lose it, before she could get her mind back on Melody again. Even so, her voice sounded whiny and she had to sniff as she said, “You just don’t know, Nick. You don’t have any idea.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    George had lived with this damn family for nearly sixty years, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
    “Who are you assholes?” he roared.
    “Who are you calling asshole?” his brother Joe roared back.
    “His son’s dead and not even buried yet—can’t you give him a break?” He knew Patty meant well, that she was defending him, but he couldn’t help it, he found her voice unbelievably irritating, almost wanted to cross over to his brothers’ side so as not to be associated with her.
    He hollered, “Patty, for Christ’s sake, shut up!”
    Joe and Philip, Rod’s kid, started yelling at once. Joe said, “You’re going to ruin it for us, George. Thirty years we put into this business, and we can cash in, we can retire in style, and you gotta stand in the way.”
    “Bullshit! Bullshit!” screamed Philip “Don’t put it on Uncle George. It’s you and Dad against the rest of us.”
    George’s brother Rod shouted, “I swear to God you’re disinherited.”
    “Disinfuckingherited! You can’t disinherit me. I’m a share holder in the fucking company. What you think, you can just throw me out? You crazy old man!”
    George winced. Had the board meetings always been this way? Or did this one seem so brutal because he was rubbed raw? Usually he would have been furious because they hadn’t cancelled out of respect for him—as if they’d understand the concept. But not today—today he hurt too much, and not just because of Melody and Ham. Because of them too. His brothers, his sisters-in-law, his nieces and nephews—the damn hypocrites who had come to his house yesterday to offer condolences and today were trying to sell him down the river.
    He couldn’t summon an ounce of fury—only sadness and bewilderment, a sense of everything caving in on him. He really didn’t feel like fighting. For all he cared, they could take the damn company and—He stopped himself. That was what they wanted. That was why they’d refused to cancel the meeting. They wanted to hit him when he was down.
    I can’t let them get way with it.
    The words formed somewhere in the back of his mind, like an echo, a vague reminder of something he’d forgotten. But he had to start caring, had to muster some of the old fire. Had to get through this.
    I’ll need Patty’s help.
    The thought surprised him. Usually he considered Patty a necessary hindrance. He needed her to serve on the board and to vote the way he told her to, but this was his show and he didn’t need her horning in.
    Well, that was before. Today, he did need her. He squeezed her thigh under the table. Startled, she looked at him. He gave her a little nod. It meant: “Help me,” but would she know that after he’d just told her to shut up?
    A couple of the younger ones were now putting in their two cents worth, the ones who were mad about Philip’s saying it was Joe and Rod against everyone else, because it wasn’t. It would be a lot simpler if it were—it was split more or less down the middle, and Ham’s death could make the difference. Only Hilary wasn’t here today, and Hilary sometimes went one way, sometimes the other, depending on whether or not she was mad at her dad. Christ, he sometimes thought that was what the whole thing was about—getting back at each other. Maybe hurting each other just for the hell of it. He’d thought that about Ham.
    A truly amazing thought ran through George’s brain: Do I sound like they do?
    Patty was talking. “Ladies and gentlemen, I honestly don’t think we’re going to accomplish a goddamn thing this morning.”
    Her voice was icy; haughty.