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Forces As I loaded the bed linen into the washing machine, I could hear Matty insisting in the kitchen, "The chilies are very mild, and cheese is an excellent source of protein." I thought I might become rude if I saw her again, so I sneaked out of the house by the utility room door. Let some other widow get points for transferring the wet sheets to the dryer. It was the same at the funeral two days later: widows, dressed to the teeth, trampling each other in the attempt to stand near Ernie. At one point, just when Father Snyder was saying, "Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts," it looked like Matty was going to get jostled right into the grave. But alas, she only swayed and regained her balance. I turned to Jack then, just to see if he had noticed, and saw something rather shocking. He wasn't looking at Matty in particular, but at the whole crowd of women around Ernie. And the look on his face was — not jealous, exactly. Intrigued. Eager. Shrewd. In fairness, I knew that it had nothing to do with his devotion to Polly. It was just his natural ambition, his sense of what he had coming to him. When it was all over, and Jack and I were walking to the car, Ernie caught up with us and thanked me for doing the flowers in the church — not those stiff things from the florist, but the real flowers, which I had arranged in silver bowls up on the altar. Matty was trailing after him, Muffling and dabbing at her face, as if she ever cared a thing about Laura. "The roses were beautiful," Ernie said. He looked like he hadn't slept since Laura died, but there he was, just like Ernie, taking the trouble to thank me for the roses. "You should thank Jack, actually," I said. "I took them from his yard." It was a sort of confession, for Jack hadn't been too pleased with me when he saw the state of his rose bushes that morning. I explained to him that there are priorities, and that the earth yields her increase for the good of all, but he couldn't see it. Now he was walking along next to Matty, giving her his handkerchief, asking if she had a ride back to the Village. "Why, how sweet of you," she bleated. "I'm so upset I didn't even think about how I'd get back." It was a blatant lie, but I didn't much mind, she looked such a fright with her mascara dripping down into her wrinkles. <<| 1
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