Nana spoke. “No, we’ll take that bus of yours,” she said with a grin. “I wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself.”
My mother studied the pamphlet I’d given her and eyed the information desk in the center of the room. “Do you think they’re having any funerals?”
“ Arlington averages twenty-eight funerals per day,” I said.
They both gasped. “That many?” my mom asked. “Will we be in the way if we take the tour? I don’t want to intrude on anyone’s grief.”
“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Let’s just not take any pictures of people visiting graves.” I turned toward the east wing. “How about we hit the washroom before boarding?” I asked, moving that way. “There won’t be any others on the tour except-”
I stopped short when a woman emerged from the washroom. She was instantly recognizable: Ruth Minkus. She made eye contact with me as she skirted past and I couldn’t help but notice the hot, red rims makeup couldn’t hide. Ruth gripped a paper tissue in one hand, holding it close to her heart, and I held my breath, hoping she didn’t know who I was. Instinctively I turned to watch the young man who had been staring out the window walk up to her. He took her arm. “You okay, Mom?” he asked.
Joel Minkus and his mother looked exactly as they had on television last night-except yesterday they’d seemed smaller, and somehow less real, less flesh-and-blood. And as much as I had been worried about Carl Minkus’s death, and felt for his family, I had been insulated-at home, away from the immediacy, the fierce reality of their grief.
My mom touched my shoulder. “Ollie,” she said in a whisper, “isn’t that-?”
“Yes,” I said, turning away from the twosome. “Let’s move over there by the trees. We’ll be out of the way.”
Nana had bypassed us to disappear into the ladies’ room. “Damn,” I said, then addressed my mom. “You wait here for her, and I’ll meet you…” I looked around, trying to decide whether I should say something to Mrs. Minkus. I didn’t want to apologize, because I knew I wasn’t responsible for her husband’s demise, but as one of the players in this drama, I felt almost compelled to offer my condolences.
But what, exactly, should a person in my situation say?
My mom hadn’t left my side. She whispered again, “I think she recognizes you.”
I turned. Ruth Minkus was staring. The red-rimmed eyes now blazed with anger.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, turning back. I gripped my mom’s arm and guided her toward the washroom. “Go on,” I said. “Take care of Nana. I’ll find you.”
I attempted to slink to out the side doors, keeping my face averted, but an exclamation behind me caused me to stutter-step. “You!” Ruth Minkus shouted. “You’re the chef!”
Her voice echoed loudly, and I wasn’t the only person who turned to see her pointing at me. I closed the space between us, hoping she would lower her voice-hoping the horde of tourists milling about the visitor’s center wouldn’t recognize us. Hoping they would turn their attention away from our imminent and, undoubtedly uncomfortable, conversation.
“Mrs. Minkus,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She backed away from me, horror-stricken. “You killed my husband.”
I don’t know whether I was more shocked by her accusation or more relieved that she’d at least spoken quietly. I answered fast. “No,” I said. “That’s not true. I didn’t.”
“Mom,” Joel said, stepping between us and keeping his voice low, “Please.”
Ruth whirled toward him. “She killed your father.”
“Nothing’s been proven yet.” He shot an apologetic glance toward me, then placed his hands on her shoulders and made her look up at him. “Let’s not make a scene. Please? Dad wouldn’t want that.”
Her posture slumped as her gaze dropped to the floor.
Joel stole a look at me. “I’m sorry,” he said, shifting to stand next to his mother. He kept one arm protectively around her. “We’ve just come from visiting the site where my father… my father…” He faltered, then cleared his throat. “Where my father will be buried. My mother wanted to see it. To make sure…” He cleared his throat again, then shook his head slightly, as though berating himself for providing explanation. He turned to Ruth. “Come on, Kap is waiting for us outside.”
Ruth grimaced, still looking at the ground. I couldn’t tell whether she was reacting to Joel’s mention of the grave site, or of “Kap.” To me it seemed the latter. I was about to make a hasty exit, expressing condolences once again, when my mom and nana appeared, flanking me.
At almost the same moment, an older gentleman stepped up to take Ruth’s free arm. He was tall and fit, with deep crow’s-feet at his eyes, and a full head of white hair that picked up glints of light from above. While he was clean-shaven, he had the look of a man who probably needed to use the razor more than once per day. I put him at sixty-five, but good-looking enough to turn the heads of women of all ages. “You were in here so long, I was worried.”
She recoiled from him, but he seemed not to notice.
“Hello,” he said to us, a quizzical expression on his deeply tanned face. “Are you friends of the family?”
“No,” I began, but Joel took charge.
“Kap,” he said, relief in his voice. “Mom could probably use a little air. And I think it would be good if she sat down.” At first I thought Joel was asking Kap to take charge of Ruth so that he could say something to me in private, but he surprised me by leading his mother away. “We’ll be in the car,” he said.
Kap nodded as they left. He turned back to us and flashed a smile.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” I said, even though we hadn’t officially been introduced. I just wanted to get the heck out of there.
But Kap seemed unwilling to let us go. He raised an eyebrow. “You look familiar.”
My face went hot. “I’m the executive chef at the White House.”
“Ah,” he said. I felt the weight of his comprehension. In the space of two seconds, his expression shifted from anxious to genial. “Today has been very difficult for Ruth, as you can imagine. We spent most of the morning at the funeral home, making arrangements. Carl, having been a decorated veteran, always wanted to be buried at Arlington, so we made those arrangements as well.”
My mom had moved closer. I couldn’t understand why. The last thing I wanted was to prolong this unexpected meeting. I desperately searched for a polite way to extricate ourselves, but Mom interjected.
“My husband is buried here, too.”
Kap’s awareness shifted. Where he’d been paying attention to me as though I were the only other living human being in the cemetery, he now turned his gaze toward my mother. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said. “Has it been a long time?”
“Yes,” she said. “Very long.” And then she surprised me by adding, “Too long.”
My jaw nearly dropped. What the heck was this? My mom was flirting with a complete stranger in the middle of Arlington National Cemetery. While it had been more than twenty years since my dad died, and my mother had had a gentleman friend or two since then, it seemed odd to see her so flushed and eager. Like a teenager.
“I’m here from Chicago visiting my daughter.” Mom cocked her head at me like I was a little kid.
I felt like one-left out of the adult conversation. Who was this guy, anyway? A brother? Brother-in-law? This Kap didn’t look like either Carl or Ruth Minkus. He was older than both of them and looked to be Middle Eastern, or Greek, whereas the Minkuses likely came from Western European roots.