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money from him now that he’s dead, whatever he was worth.”
    “Okay, but you know what they say,” Andy found herself parroting, “absent parents sometimes make up for their emotional negligence through their estate.”
    The two boys stared at their mother, as if they’d just witnessed the first sign of dementia.
    “Really? I’ve never heard that before,” squinted Ian.
    Mitch erupted in an irritated laugh. “That’s horseshit, Mom, and you know it. Negligent parents are just negligent. And Dad was what he was.”
    She pressed on. “Yes, but maybe we’ll feel differently about him if he left you all something in his will—”
    “Will you quit trying to defend him?” Mitch suddenly shot back. “He’s not going to make any of us feel better about our family, no matter what’s in his will.”
    Andy halted instantly. She knew Mitch was right. Nothing was going to redeem their father this late in the day. And nothing was going to redeem her from having married him, either. She leaned back in her chair, put the cigar to her lips and retreated.
    Ian wondered if Mitch had any idea how hurtful he could be, even when he didn’t intend it. Their mother was just doing what mothers do: trying to make a bad situation better. She wanted to fill in the blanks. Find a little closure. Frankly, so did he.
    “You know,” Ian began, as forcefully as he could, “I think we should find out about the cause of death. And if there’s a will.” He looked pointedly at Mitch, indicating his big brother’s remarks had gone too far.
    “Do you, Ian?” Mitch sighed, backpedaling for at least the third time this evening.
    “Absolutely. Only, I haven’t really got the time. Have you?”
    Mitch picked up his cue. “No. Unfortunately not.”
    “And the girls work even harder than we do,” Ian continued.
    “No, they don’t—”
    “Yes, they do,” Ian countered. “So they can’t do it, either. But maybe Mom could.”
    The boys both turned to look at Andy, who knew they were trying to placate her. Still, she appreciated their attempt to make her feel useful. “Well, getting a death certificate and a copy of the will should be fairly straightforward,” she said. “I’m sure I could find the time.”
    “You’re not too busy?” asked Ian.
    Her youngest had always been so sweetly co-dependent, Andy reminded herself, reflexively ferreting out people’s feelings and then trying to rescue them from the pain. Even as a little boy of seven, Ian knew Andy felt bad about the way Mark had disappeared from their lives. Now he sensed his dad’s death was bringing all that excess of regret to the surface, and he was working furiously to bail her out.
    “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?” he repeated.
    “No. Really. I’d like to find out,” she said.
    Mitch felt the volley was his. “Well, if it helps,” he offered, “I’d say Dad had a couple hundred thousand in assets. So he should have had a will. But that’s the kind of thing normal people do, so he probably didn’t.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind,” said Andy. “Where are the ashes, by the way?”
    “I brought them home. They’re in the freezer,” Mitch answered. Nobody seemed impressed by his answer. “What do you do with ashes?”
    “I don’t think they need refrigeration.”
    Mitch shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t really like having them— him here in the house. Can you take him, Mom? Until the memorial service.”
    Wow, thought Andy. Even in death, Mark was the family hot potato.
    With that, the three fell silent. Mitch smiled, turned his face upward to the night sky and began blowing smoke rings until the other two couldn’t resist the challenge and joined in.

Chapter 5
    What Goes on in Texas
    Tucked up against the Rio Grande just north of the Mexican border is McAllen, Texas; not the sort of place Andy expected Mark Kornacky to put down roots. He had been an LA boy, born and bred. But after the divorce, he headed to Texas to stay with an old college