Chapter 24: The Plot in the Sun

The mason delivered the stone on a Saturday in June.

Carlo drove it up the hill himself, in the bed of his truck, with a blanket under it and three straps over it.

He backed up to the cypress and let the tailgate down.

"It's yours," he said. "I paid for it before the funeral. They wouldn't refund me."

I walked around the truck.

The marble was pale gray and smooth as milk.

My name was cut across the top in plain capitals, SERAFINA BARSANTI, and under it two dates.

The first was the day I was born.

The second was the Friday of my funeral.

"Huh," I said.

"I know."

"They finished it before I walked up that hill."

"The mason was told to hurry." Carlo shifted his weight. "I can send it back. I can have him grind the date off."

"How much did it cost?"

"Nine thousand."

"And the funeral flowers?"

"Four."

"Then I'm worth thirteen thousand dollars, and I've never looked better."

He laughed, and then his face crumpled, and he turned away to look at the lake.

Ciro came up from the car with a basket on one arm.

Behind him came Bianca, in a yellow sundress that she had chosen herself, with her hair loose and her shoes in her hand.

The grass was warm and thick under my bare feet.

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