Luke's about quarter to one. There was a crowd in the narthex of the church, the jam was caused by people paying their condolences to the family. Sadie and Angela stood side-by-side next to the door, book-ended by Pat and Tudy. Both of the men wore black suits and sunglasses. Both of the women wore black, too: Angela's dress accessorized with Coach's red Ergo Small Zip handbag; Sadie's, a crumpled white cotton handkerchief. Angela's scent was "Ethereal," and Sadie's, a mere whisper of "Cashmere Bouquet." The resemblance between the two women was striking, though. Funny. Jake hadn't noticed that before. Angela's cheekbones definitely were her mother's, and the hair, too, though Sadie's was now steel gray and caught in a bun behind her head. Still, it remained every bit as thick as Angela's, which flowed glossy and black halfway down her back. That must have been how Sadie looked when Pasquale had met her, Jake thought. Young and beautiful.
