1
September
The stream behind St. Michael’s Episcopal Church was a lovely place for a memorial service.
It was a Tuesday, late in the morning and only a select few had gathered. Xeni Everly-Wilkins stood a few feet from the water’s edge holding a small portion of her Aunt Sable’s ashes. The rest had already been sent back to California at her Aunt Alice’s request. Xeni had been escorted by Lucy Pummel to the beautiful spot, shaded by tall trees and buzzing with the sounds of nature thriving in the extended summer heat. The elderly, dark-skinned Black woman stood beside her still, and beside his wife was the Reverend Pummel. They were joined by her aunt’s other close friend Bess Thompson and her daughter Maya, who Xeni guessed, like her, was also in her early to mid-thirties.
“We’re just waiting on Mason McInroy. He’s providing the music,” the Reverend said, breaking the silence.
“Thank you,” Xeni replied with a smile she knew the Reverend would understand. He reminded her of her Uncle Rand. A serene, older, Black man who always knew what to say and when.
Xeni had already attended one homegoing celebration for her beloved aunt the week before. Sable Junette Everly was survived by her seven sisters and too many nieces and nephews to name on a program. She’d lived a full life, bursting with love and laughter and, most importantly, music. Xeni had done her job that day. She’d woken up early and sent texts to her cousins, Anton and Rosia, and made sure they were ready to help her wrangle their many family members. She’d held her mother’s hand, let her step-father hold them both. She’d sat through hours and hours of stories and laughs, recounting the life of the former R&B singer who was also one of the only people in Xeni’s life who truly knew her.
Xeni had doled out hugs of comfort, accepted condolences and bit her tongue as each and every member of their community told her just how much they loved her Aunt Sable and how much they envied the bond and the amazing life she’d shared with her sisters. Xeni hadn’t said a word about how her mother and her other aunts had been fighting with Sable since before Xeni was born.
Xeni kept quiet about the Thanksgiving dinners and Easter Sundays that had come to a grinding halt when one of the Everly sisters would bring up Sable refusing to do a tribute show, or how Sable wouldn’t have missed a birth, graduation or birthday if she would just try to think about someone other than herself for a minute. She didn’t mention how suddenly, when Xeni was twelve, Aunt Sable had thought it was best to finally put three thousand miles between herself and her sisters.
She’d kept Xeni close. Phone calls. Quiet trips. Gifts. So many gifts, but it wasn’t the same. Xeni knew how stubborn Everly women could be, but in all those years she still wished that just once her mother and her sisters could put their petty beef aside and be a family again.
Now Sable was gone.
When all of the plates and all of the leftovers were wrapped up and divided, Xeni had handed her part of the emotional responsibility for her mother off to her step-dad and boarded a plane alone. Her aunt had made her final wishes very clear. After she was gone, she only wanted Xeni in her home. She only wanted Xeni going through her things. She’d left money for everyone in the will, all her sisters and all the kids, but she didn’t want twenty-plus people tromping through her house, fighting over her stuff. She’d put it in writing so it was nice and legal, and then called Xeni to make sure she heard it directly. Any help Xeni needed was welcome, whether friends or an assistant, but she did not want her sisters anywhere near Kinderack, New York.
Xeni had known for sure there were three things waiting for her when she got there. A thirty-five hundred square foot colonial filled with the remnants of Sable Everly’s life, a will and, from the way her aunt had left things with her family, probably a whole heap of other bullshit that Xeni didn’t want to deal with. Maybe a secret husband somewhere in her Aunt Sable’s past. Definitely the jewelry she’d stolen from her sisters in a petty squabble. Or something worse, like proof she and her sisters were covering up a murder.
It had all crossed her mind, but every time she asked her mom about any piece of Sable’s life, Xeni had found herself in the middle of another argument. If she asked one of her other aunts, they’d tell her to stay out of grown folks’ business, as if thirty-five wasn’t grown. Thirty-five hundred square feet was a lot to tackle on her own, but she knew going it alone was for the best.
She’d already spent one night in the sprawling colonial and, though it felt cold and already untouched, Aunt Sable was in every corner. Xeni could hear her voice, hear her deep laugh. The scent of her favorite perfume lingered everywhere. They deserved more time together, but that wasn’t the way life—or death—worked.
She glanced around their small gathering again and almost shook her head. Her aunt had moved to the smallest, mostly White, town she could find in the middle of nowhere New York, but still managed to befriend every Black person in shouting distance. A moment later, she heard the sound of footsteps rushing through the trees.
“I know, baby. After, we’ll get ice cream. I promise,” she heard a woman say. A child responded, but Xeni couldn’t make out what they said. A moment later, another Black woman, carrying a toddler on her hip, and this White dude who was larger than any human being had the right to be, came hurrying up the path.
“It’s my fault,” the man announced. “Apologies.” By the look of the bagpipes tucked under his arm, the kilt and the thick Scottish accent, Xeni guessed this was Mason McInroy. Of course her aunt would want a bagpiper to commemorate her final send off. Xeni ignored how lusciously thick everything about him was. His beard, his wide shoulders, his arms, the massive legs emerging from the perfectly hanging plaid, even his neck—she ignored all of that and smiled at the woman instead.
“Xeni, this is Mason and his cousin Liz,” Reverend Pummel said. “And that’s little Palila.”
“Hello.”
“My husband, Silas, couldn’t make it, but he sends his regards. He loved your aunt very much. We all did.” Liz said, breathing heavy. She wasn’t a small woman, either. Easily six feet tall and pregnant. Very pregnant. Xeni was pretty sure her husband ran one of the busy apple orchards in the next town over. Whatever he did, eleven a.m. on a Tuesday wasn’t the ideal time for anyone to step away from work, and according to her aunt’s final wishes, that was the point. She didn’t want the whole town to show up. Just the people who mattered to her most.
“Well, I’m glad you could make it. I know this isn’t an ideal time. How are you, sweetheart?” Xeni asked the little girl. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder in reply.
“Sorry. Selective shyness is the thing these days.”
“It’s okay,” Xeni replied.
“I think this is everyone,” Bess started to say when they all turned at the crunching of leaves coming from down stream. Three teenage girls came tromping through the trees.
Xeni looked over as Bess’s hands went right to her hips. She cocked her head at the short Black girl in the group. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
The girl’s mouth opened, then shut again. Xeni knew the look on her face. She was considering her words very carefully. “Yes, grandma. We should, but we didn’t want to miss this.”
“My mom said I should come, since she couldn’t close the restaurant for lunch,” the tall Asian girl blurted out.
“And you, Miss Vargas?”
“I’m—I’m ditching, but if it weren’t for Ms. Everly, I wouldn’t already have the lead inOklahoma. Imagine me. A little Dominican girl playing Laurey. This part will help me get into drama school. I owe Miss Sable my life.”
