Read Online Hidden Heritage by Charlotte Hinger - Free Book Online Page A

hers.
    I moseyed among the different groups and listened in. A cluster of men I recognized from the feedyard were paying more attention to Dwayne than to Maria.
    â€œIt’s going to leave a hell of a hole in the feedyard.”
    â€œThat’s a fact.”
    If there was anyone vying for his job, I couldn’t detect it.
    Several women went out of their way to express their sympathy to Maria. “You’ve helped my family so very much when we came to this country. I’m so sorry. Victor was a good man.”
    In fact, the phrase I heard the most was that “Victor was a good man.”
    Two men broke off from their group, walked over to Maria and introduced themselves. Maria obviously didn’t know either of them. They both wore jeans and sports coats accented with loose bola ties. I moved closer.
    â€œMa’am, I’m sorry we have to meet this way.” The speaker had an alarmingly red face. The kind that makes doctors reach for their prescription pad. He removed his hat and nodded in respect. He drew a handkerchief out of his back pocket and mopped his sweaty forehead. Blood pressure, I decided. Not just the heat. His belt buckle glinted below his large belly. Huge hands and even larger thighs. The kind of man who looked like he spent most of his time swilling beer and watching NASCAR, but could knock the hell out of someone if he took a mind to.
    The small man at his side stared intently at Maria. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and fidgeted constantly. He kept fingering his moustache as though needing reassurance that it hadn’t melted in the noonday sun.
    â€œI knew your Aunt Lucia back in Mexico. In fact she’s a cousin by marriage to some nephew. So I suppose that sort of makes us related.”
    â€œI don’t have an Aunt Lucia.”
    He laughed. “Typical. Doesn’t take long to forget the home folks. Or leave the old life behind.”
    It was a mean thing to say to a woman at her husband’s funeral. I considered taking her arm and steering her toward Hugh’s car.
    â€œI have never turned my back on family,” Maria said. “I have never met this woman.” She rummaged in her purse for a packet of tissues. “
    â€œSpeaking of family, I’m surprised Victor’s great-grandmother isn’t here today. Or his sister.”
    I wasn’t the only one listening. Everyone within hearing distance froze in place and waited for Maria’s reply. She looked like a guppy gasping for air in contaminated water.
    Hugh intervened. “Francesca is not well.”
    â€œOr being hateful.”
    â€œNow is not the time to discuss it.”
    Estelle immediately moved in protect Maria. “It’s time for us to go, dear.” She turned to the cluster of mourners. “The family wants all of you to know how much we appreciate your sympathy. The flowers. The cards. We are going to leave now. As you can imagine, the death, the circumstances of Victor’s tragic death, have been so hard on Maria. We are going back to the house.”
    And that was that. No invitation for the family to join her there. No food. Just this abrupt farewell.
    I faxed my report to Dimon. It consisted of an estimation of the number attending and a notation that there were no incidents at the funeral. Strained conversations did not rise to the level of reportable incidents. No people acting strange as far as I could tell.
    Since the KBI wasn’t interested in speculation about the importance of what was not right before their eyes, I did not mention that Victor’s great-grandmother and sister did not attend. That the extended family was obviously barely speaking. That not having a funeral dinner following the burial was practically unheard of in a rural community.
    There was no point. Dimon was only interested in the facts.
    ***
    I had missed Tom’s arrival.
    â€œYou’re early!” He and Keith were already in the family