Save Me - Lisa Scottoline [41]
Rose circled the block looking for a parking space, with Annie following in her car, and they ended up finding them about ten blocks away from Fiore’s. She parked and slipped on sunglasses, having worn her hair tucked under a raffia hat. “Quite a crowd, huh?” she said, getting out of the car.
“Yes.” Annie sniffed the air. “Hey, do you smell that? Is that French fries?”
“It’s potato chips from the Homestead factory. You smell it stronger here in Old Town, because it’s closer to the plant, downwind.”
“How many carbs in one breath?”
“Don’t ask.” Rose fell into step with her on the sidewalk. The humidity was still high, making her black linen dress uncomfortable. They passed a series of graceful brick homes with restored façades and generous wrap-around porches, surrounded by tall, ancient trees in resplendent autumn leaf.
“Where are we?” Annie’s neat head swiveled left and right. “Mayberry?”
Rose smiled. “This is called Bosses Row, where the Allen brothers lived when they started Homestead. The company used to be family-owned, but it’s not anymore.”
“No surprise. Families aren’t even family-owned anymore. Look at these houses. They’re beautiful.”
“They’re over a hundred and fifty years old.”
“Yes, massa. Remind me to take potato chips back to the boys. I’ll say they’re from Tara.”
“You have this place all wrong.” Rose shook her head, walking along, her black flats slapping against the pavement. “It’s not homogeneous at all. It’s a company town. Most people who live here work at the Homestead plant, and there’s plenty of professionals, too. That’s what I like, it’s a cross-section of people. Normal people.”
“Snore.”
Rose laughed. “You’re a snob.”
“I’m a New Yorker.” Annie tugged at her black cardigan. “And I’m so hating on this sweater. You wear this?”
“Sure. It’s useful.”
“It’s so boxy, it makes me feel like a nun. Are you dead below the waist, too?”
“Uh-oh.” Rose spotted a group of reporters on the pavement ahead of them, with cameras and klieglights. “On the left, ahead, is the press. When we get in the line, stay to the right.”
“Gotcha.” They reached the end of the receiving line, which flowed down Fiore’s flagstone walkway and onto the sidewalk. There had to be a few hundred people here, somber and teary-eyed. Rose hadn’t realized how many people these deaths had affected, but she should have. A single life, and death, could touch so many people, and a teacher was forever.
“Sorry, it could take an hour to get inside.”
“I don’t mind. I’m used to waiting on line.” Annie shrugged. “The air is adding years to my life.”
Rose felt a wave of sadness for Marylou, Serena, and Ellen. She flashed on the billowing smoke, the raging fire, and Amanda.
Mommy!
“Are you okay?” Annie pulled her closer, by the elbow. “You look so sad. You didn’t know any of them, did you?”
“No.” Rose understood what she was feeling, but there was too much to say, and she’d never said any of it to anybody, not even Annie. “I keep thinking of Amanda.”
“I understand.”
Rose noticed a few of the teachers leaving the funeral home, making their way down the driveway to the sidewalk, a downhearted group that included Mrs. Nuru, dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex. “That’s Melly’s teacher,” Rose said, leaning over to Annie. “I should go say hi.”
“Go. I’ll hold our place.”
“Thanks. Be right back.” Rose crossed to Mrs. Nuru, who stopped and smiled stiffly at Rose, her hooded eyes glistening.
“Hello, Rose. How’s Melly?”
“Home, thanks. I’m so sorry, and Leo sends his condolences, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Is Kristen here?”
“She came and left. The school staff all came early, at the invitation of the families.” Mrs. Nuru pursed her lips. “I heard from Mr. Rodriguez that she told you what I said about the faulty wiring. That was imprudent