All the Time in the World by Caroline Angell

Author:Caroline Angell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781627794022
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

February, six days after

I wake up before the sun on the morning of Gretchen’s funeral. I spent an hour the night before agonizing over what to wear, only to find that when I get out of bed, I no longer want to wear it. Twenty minutes pass. I sit on the edge of my bed in the dark. I want the boys to be able to feel their emotions. I want them to know that I will be here for them. I don’t want the emotions of everyone around them to scare them. And very little of that is within the bounds of my control.

At the last minute, I decide on an outfit that’s not really in season but feels appropriate. I grab my winter coat and flat boots and scoot out of the apartment.

When I get to the McLeans’ building, Shel, the doorman, is engulfed in a sea of people, all dressed in black, all talking. No one seems to know which apartment number they’re going to. I see Aunt Lila’s daughter and deduce they must be members of Gretchen’s family. Shel looks relieved to see me, like maybe I can help sort this out. I wonder why no one mentioned to him that a whole lot of people would be descending on the apartment.

“Good morning, Miss Charlotte,” he says.

“Good morning, Shel. I think it’s okay if these folks come up with me, as long as it’s okay with you,” I say.

“Everyone going to a wake with Mr. and Mrs. McLean?” Shel asks, and I am horrified. I haven’t yet had to bear the news of the tragedy in person to anyone.

“Yes,” I say. “We are going to a wake, Shel. I’m so sorry no one told you. Gretchen—Mrs. McLean—was hit by a car last week. And she died.”

Shel takes off his hat slowly and puts it on his chest. After a moment, he crosses himself and says “Amen. God rest her.”

“Can you buzz Mr. McLean and let him know we’re on our way?” I say. And I shepherd the wavering mass of sad people into the elevator. As the doors close, Shel picks up the phone to call Scotty.

When we get to the top floor, Patrick is standing there with the door open. He hugs and murmurs his way through the shuffling crowd, and as soon as they’re all in, but before I can get in, he steps outside of the apartment, into the foyer. He leans over, and I think he’s going to kiss my cheek, but really he kisses the corner of my mouth and only separates his face from mine about an inch before asking, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I say, stepping back.

“George has been asking for you.”

“Not Matt?”

“Matt hasn’t said much of anything.”

My eyes tear up, and I can’t really see. I feel Patrick take my hands. “That is. I don’t know what that is. It’s so far past sad. I don’t know.”

“I know,” he says, and I would do anything, anything, to be

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