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Sugar said, "And besides: 'Born to Be with You.' " "What's wrong with it, I'd like to know?" Serena asked.

"Have you thought about the lyrics? By your side, satisfied? You want to hear that at a funeral?" "Memorial service," Serena said, though she'd been calling it a funeral herself up till now.

"What's the difference?" Sugar asked.

"Well, it's not like there was a coffin present." "What's the difference, Serena?" "It's not like I'm by his side in the coffin or anything! It's not like I'm being ghoulish or anything! I'm by his side in a spiritual sense, is all I'm saying." Sugar looked at Maggie. Maggie was trying to remember the words to "My Prayer." In a funeral context, she thought (or in a memorial-service context), even the blandest lines could take on a different aspect.

"You'd be the laughingstock of this congregation," Sugar said flatly.

"What do I care about that?" Maggie left them and walked on up the aisle. She was alert to the people she passed now; they could be old-time friends. But no one looked familiar. She stopped at Ira^s pew and gave him a nudge. "I'm back," she told him. He moved over. He was reading his pocket calendar-the part that listed birthstones and signs of the zodiac.

"Am I imagining things," he asked when she'd settled next to him, "or is that 'My Prayer' I'm hearing?" "It's 'My Prayer,' all right," Maggie said. "And it's not just any old pianist, either. It's Sissy Parton." "Who's Sissy Parton?" "Honestly, Ira! You remember Sissy. She played at Se-rena's wedding." "Oh, yes." "Where you and I sang 'Love Is a Many Splendored Thing,' " Maggie said.

"How could I forget that," he said.

"Which Serena wants us to sing again today." Ira didn't even change expression. He said, "Too bad we can't oblige her." "Sugar Tilghman won't sing, either, and Serena's giving her fits. I don't think she'll let us out of this, Ira." "Sugar Tilghman's here?" Ira said. He turned and looked over his shoulder.

Boys had always been fascinated by Sugar.

"She's sitting back there in the hat," Maggie told him. , "Did Sugar sing at their wedding?" "She sang 'Born to Be with You.' " Ira faced forward again and thought a moment. He must have been reviewing the lyrics. Eventually, he gave a little snort.

Maggie said, "Do you recall the words to 'Love Is a Many Splendored Thing'?" "No, and I don't intend to," Ira said.

A man paused in the aisle next to Maggie. He said, "How you doing, Morans?" "Oh, Durwood," Maggie said. She told Ira, "Move over and let Durwood have a seat." "Durwood. Hi, there," Ira said. He slid down a foot.

"If I'd known you were coming too, I'd have hitched a ride," Durwood said, settling next to Maggie. "Peg had to take the bus to work." "Oh, I'm sorry, we should have thought," Maggie said. "Serena must have phoned everyone in Baltimore." "Yes, I noticed old Sugar back there," Durwood said. He slipped a ballpoint pen from his breast pocket. He was a rumpled, quiet man, with wavy gray hair that he wore just a little too long. It trailed thinly over the tops of his ears and lay in wisps on the back of his collar, giving him the look of someone down on his luck. In high school Maggie had not much liked him, but over the years he'd stayed on in the neighborhood and married a Glen Burnie girl and raised a family, and now she saw more of him than anyone else she'd grown up with. Wasn't it funny how that happened, she thought. She couldn't remember now why they hadn't been close to begin with.

Durwood was patting all his pockets, hunting something. "You wouldn't have a piece of paper, would you?" he said.

All she found was her shampoo coupon. She gave him that and he laid it on a hymnbook. Clicking his pen point, he frowned into space. "What are you writing?" Maggie asked.

"I'm trying to think of the words to 'I Want You, I Need You, I Love You.' " Ira groaned.

The church was filling now. A family settled in the pew just in front of theirs, the children arranged by height so that the line of round blond heads slanted upward like a question. Serena flitted from guest to guest,