Page 11

The Funeral ~ Chapter 2 by Helen Chappell

As the minister droned on, we looked around Strawbridge United Methodist Church and counted the mourners. Frances Woolcraft had a pretty good turnout, we thought, considering how few people claimed to like her when she was alive and wearing low-cut blouses over to Glack’s Good Gun Shop and Sporting Goods in Tubman’s Corners. The men who came in, and, let’s face it, a gun shop’s customers are mostly men, probably enjoyed peering down at her cleavage as much as they enjoyed sighting down a shotgun. Of course, it was no surprise that most of the mourners were men. Frances was not the type of woman who enjoyed the company of other women. And, for that matter, women didn’t like her much either. Even in company, she was always ready to pay all kinds of attention to the men. Front and center in the first pew was her boss, Omar Glack. Omar’s shoulders were shaking, the tears were streaming down his chunky cheeks and he gazed yearningly at the white French provincial coffin as if he’d like to throw himself across the Casablanca lily arrange-

hop Gun S s Good od Glack’sSpor ting Go and

ment. And next to him was his wife, Gloria Glack. Gloria sat up ramrod straight, looking straight ahead. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She was as thin and stiff as Omar was soft and chubby, On her other side, with his arm casually draped across the pew behind her, sat Buddy Halloway. He was Glack’s gunsmith and right-hand man, but the way he was leaning into Gloria made us think he was comforting the comfortable. A tall, skinny man, all awkward bone, he was paying more attention to Gloria than to the minister. We’re nobody’s fools. We exchanged a look and a nod. Lally nudged Mr. George Dean on the other side of us. He’s about a thousand, and they call him the Tubman’s Corner’s News and Ad9

October 2016 ttimes web magazine  

October 2016 Tidewater Times

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