Exiled for Saying No, I Came Back and Took the Boss's Chair novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Sixth Corner
Lotta's cousin blocks the door of her father's funeral until a Costigan opens it behind her, and she takes the empty corner of the coffin and tears the ticket her cousin gives her.
My father put me on a night train eleven years ago and never wrote.
Today I climbed the church steps in my work boots to bury him.
My cousin Santo stood in the doorway with one hand flat on the oak.
"Family only," he said.
"I'm his daughter."
"My father says family means the ones who stayed."
Behind him the choir was singing, and I could see black coats filling every pew.
Santo held out a folded paper.
"It's paid for. The six-ten train tonight. You can still make it."
I didn't take it, so he pushed it into my coat pocket and patted the pocket flat.
"Nine nights of the novena at the house," he said. "In the back, with the cooks. My father is being generous."
A big hand came past my shoulder and pushed the second door wide.
Santo stepped back, and the gray light from the street fell down the aisle.
"Let her in," said a man behind me.
His voice was low and slow, and he stood close enough that I felt his warmth through my coat.
His palm settled at the small of my back, not pushing, only there.
I turned my head.
He was a broad man in a black suit, with a red-brown beard going gray and a white carnation on his lapel.
He looked at me for a long moment.
I had never seen him in my life, and I was sure he had seen me.
"That's a Costigan," Santo said, loud enough for the whole vestibule. "Ronan Costigan. This isn't your church."
In the back pew an old woman turned around.
Then another one did, and somebody whispered the name, and somebody crossed herself.
"I cooked at this man's table every Friday for ten years," Ronan said. "I'll see him out."
Nobody moved.
His hand stayed where it was, and I walked in under it.
The priest was giving the last blessing.
I stood at the back with my boots wet and my hands shaking, and I looked at the white cloth over the coffin.
In the front pew my uncle Ignazio turned his silver head and looked at me.
He had been my father's voice to the Irish since before I could drive.
He looked at Ronan, too, and then he turned back around without a word.
Beside him a tiny woman in black lace turned all the way, found me, and nodded once.
Nonna had not changed at all, except that she was smaller.
When the blessing ended, six men came forward and took the coffin by its handles.
They got it up on their shoulders and started down the aisle.
At the third pew the sixth man stopped.
He was a heavy cousin I half remembered, and he put his hand on his knee and sat down on the carpet.
The corner of the coffin dropped a hand's width.
Two of the bearers swore under their breath.
The women in the pews gasped, and the box tipped and held.
I didn't decide anything.
I was just walking, and then I was in the aisle with the dropped corner in front of me.
"Get up," I said to the cousin. "Let me."
He looked up at my face.
"Lotta?"
"Move your hand."
He rolled out of the way, and I put my shoulder under my father.
The wood was cold through my coat, and he was heavier than I had expected.
Nobody in the church said a word as the six of us walked him out.
Ronan held the doors open as we went through.
On the steps of Holy Rosary the wind was sharp, and the hearse was waiting with its back open.
We slid the coffin in, and I stood with my hand on the lid.
Santo came down the steps two at a time.
"You can't do that," he said. "You can't just walk in and take a corner."
"I did."
My uncle came after him, slowly, buttoning his overcoat.
He kissed me on both cheeks.
His lips were dry, and he did not close his eyes.
"Carlotta," he said. "You came. Your cousin has told you the arrangements."
"He has."
"Then there's nothing to discuss."
I took the folded paper out of my pocket and held it up between us.
"Nine nights at my father's table," I said. "I'll sit in his place."
Then I tore the ticket in half, and in half again, and put the pieces in Santo's breast pocket.
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