The Castaways

JEFFREY

H e had given the eulogy because that was what had been decided on by the group. He said “the group,” but what he really meant was Andrea. Andrea had the final word on all things Tess-and-Greg-related. Andrea wanted Jeffrey to do the eulogy; he did the eulogy.

Now, as they were filing out of the church, Andrea approached him again.

“I need your help.”

Something other than delivering the eulogy? Something other than serving as a pallbearer for Greg’s casket?

“Anything,” he said.

“I need you to make sure that April Peck does not come to the reception.”

Uhhhhhhhh. Jeffrey had already received an earful of April Peck-inspired invective from Delilah when the girl and her mother had entered the church. Little slut, what makes her think, I mean, Jesus, she has to know she doesn’t belong here, she is the last person, all the lies she told, the heartbreak she caused, and I’m not only talking about Tess, I’m talking about Greg, too…

Jeffrey had shushed her.

To which she’d hissed, You are not my father!

Now Jeffrey made a pained face.

“I can’t have her there,” Andrea said. Despite her grief, or maybe because of it, Jeffrey thought Andrea looked especially beautiful. She looked twenty-five years old, not forty-four. Her face was thin. She was very tanned.

What exactly was he supposed to say to April Peck? On the night that Andrea had asked him to do the eulogy, she had told him, You always know just what to say.

And everyone, except for Delilah, had agreed.

“I’d have Ed do it,” Andrea said now. “But he’s… oh, hell, he’s busy being the police chief.”

“Okay,” Jeffrey said.

Andrea said, “Thank you, Peach.” Which was what she used to call him, twenty years ago.

“No problem,” he said.

He found April Peck and her mother, Donna, talking with Mrs. Parks, the former police dispatcher, who had to be eighty years old by now. Mrs. Parks, it seemed, had mistaken April and Donna for MacAvoy relatives—April a niece of Greg’s, perhaps, or Donna a cousin. Jeffrey loitered awkwardly at the edge of their conversation, waiting for April and her mother to separate so he could do the dirty business of letting them know they would not be welcome at the Westmoor Club. Jeffrey wasn’t sure if April Peck knew who he was. Would she know that Jeffrey and Greg had been friends? Obviously—he had just given the eulogy! He didn’t realize the kind of celebrity this would temporarily lend him until April’s mother stepped out of the chitchat with Mrs. Parks, touched Jeffrey’s arm, and said, “You did a wonderful job.”

Jeffrey was flustered. How to respond? “Thank you,” he said. He had Donna’s full attention now—Mrs. Parks had moved on to someone else—with April standing at her mother’s right elbow. “Listen, I don’t know quite how to say this…”

“I came out of respect for Mr. MacAvoy,” April snapped. She was just a floating head over her mother’s shoulder. Blond hair up-swept, mascara appealingly smudged, transparent pink lip gloss glistening. April Peck was a knockout. That was the problem.

“Yes,” Jeffrey said. “Thank you.” He let this expression of appreciation rest for a moment before he continued. “But because of the difficult situation—last year, I mean—the family has asked that you forgo attending the reception. They feel your presence would be inappropriate.”

Donna seemed truly astonished by this statement. She took a stutter-step backward, narrowly missing colliding with Mrs. Parks behind her, and her black headscarf slipped, revealing her bald scalp.

“I’m sorry,” Jeffrey said. “It’s just that it’s… difficult for the family.”

“It’s difficult for me!” April said. “He’s dead and I want to pay my respects! You think I don’t know my presence is ‘inappropriate’? You think I didn’t feel a thousand eyes on me? Of course I did!” April’s voice was loud. Her mother’s expression was one of horror, but whether that was because of April’s outburst or because of her own exposed scalp, Jeffrey could not tell. He was grateful that the church was emptying out. He didn’t want a scene, and he was sure Andrea didn’t want a scene either—but what had she expected when she had sent him on this mission?

“Okay, listen…” he said.

“And for the record, you can’t actually keep me out of the reception.”

“Well, it’s private.”

“Well, I don’t want to go anyway. I never had any intention of going. My mother is sick.” Donna, meanwhile, had made her way unsteadily to the back of the church and was standing in front of the rows of candles as if debating whether or not to light one.

“I’m sorry to hear that—”

“She has cancer!” April said. And since her mother was out of earshot, she added, “The chemo may not work.”

Jeffrey nodded solemnly. The unfortunate truth about April Peck was that she had lost all credibility.

“And one more thing,” April said. She took a step toward Jeffrey. She was officially too close. God, if Delilah saw them, she would have a conniption. Jeffrey didn’t want to know one more thing. He had done his duty; April Peck would not come to the reception. Now all he had to do was get out of the church. But April Peck was not willing to let him go. There was something she was determined to tell him. She was so close to him, he could smell her breath: bubble gum. Her sooty eyes were narrowed. She was going to have the last word. “I was with him the night before he died.”