Page 48 of Hello, Summer
She plunked herself onto an overstuffed lime-green settee and started to dress the still-squirming child. “Graceanne!” she said sternly. “Do you want to go back to time-out?”
“No!” the child exclaimed.
“Then hold still and let me get you dressed before your grandfather comes home and puts the both of us in permanent time-out.”
When she’d succeeded in clothing her daughter, Kennedy reached behind a sofa cushion and pulled out an iPad. The little girl grabbed it and retreated behind the sofa, where she was soon giggling at a cartoon show.
“Call the mom police,” Kennedy McFall said with a sigh. “I’m using a screen to shut my kid up.”
“Whatever works,” Conley said, shrugging.
“You’d better tell me what I can help you with before she gets her second wind,” Kennedy said, nodding in the direction of her daughter.
“I was actually looking for George McFall. Is he your dad?”
“So they tell me. He’s out right now. Anything I can help with?”
Conley hesitated. “I’m working on a story about Symmes Robinette.”
“Ohhhhhh.” Kennedy nodded. “For theBeacon,right? There’s not much I can tell you. Anyway, Rowena came by a little while ago and picked up the funeral notice.”
“Rowena?”
“Yeah,” Kennedy said, running a hand through her unruly curls. “I was kind of surprised to see her. I mean, funeral notices aren’t exactly her job. Usually, we just email them into Lillian in your office.”
“No,” Conley said, remembering what Rowena had said earlier in the day about her own story. “It’s not Rowena’s job. I think she might have gotten her wires crossed.”
“You think?” Kennedy winked. “I think it’s kinda cute that Grayson has let the old girl keep her column all these years, and I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but she gets spacier by the minute.”
“We know,” Conley said ruefully. “But she’s an institution around here, or so I’m told.”
“I’m over that evil little mutt of hers,” Kennedy said. “He actually snapped at Graceanne today!”
“So sorry,” Conley said. “I’ll pass that along to my sister. In the meantime, I really do need to talk to your dad about Symmes Robinette.”
“He’s actually gone out to the house to speak to Vanessa about the arrangements. This promises to be quite an event. Dad says it’ll be the largest service he’s ever handled. People are flying in from all over the country.”
“When is the service?”
“Next Saturday, we hope. There’s going to be some kind of official memorial in D.C. at the Capitol on Tuesday. The whole family is flying up there for that. And then, fingers crossed, there’ll be the service here in town, with the funeral at the Presbyterian church and, afterward, a reception in the church parlor. Visitation hour here the night before.”
“That’s a lot,” Conley said, remembering what had seemed like the never-ending ordeal of her own father’s rather simple funeral six years earlier. “It must be very difficult for his poor wife.”
“For Charlie too,” Kennedy agreed. “And it doesn’t help matters that the medical examiner hasn’t released the body yet. Vanessa is totally beside herself about that.”
“Oh?” Conley tried to sound casually disinterested.
“Can you believe it? I mean, it was an accident, right?”
“That’s what I hear.”
“So what’s the big deal? Dad says there’s some kind of law, that there has to be an autopsy because of the circumstances, but still. You didn’t hear it from me, but Vanessa has been raising holy hell about it. She’s called everybody from the governor to the White House, trying to pull strings to get that body released and the death certificate issued.”
“And?”
“Last I heard, nothing had changed. I think Charlie’s doing his best to get her to chill out, but if you know Vanessa, you know that ain’t happening.”
“Right,” Conley said noncommittally. Her brief interactions withVanessa in the past had been intense and unpleasant. Intensely unpleasant. “You know Charlie?”
