"So what's the problem?" I said, knowing full well every aspect of such a charge would be a major problem to Howie.
He hesitated before answering. "My dark suit is back there in Keene."
"I can over-night it out to you," I offered.
"Or just buy one in Santa Barbara, Howie. They must have stores there," said my wife, annoyance ringing in her voice.
"I never made a speech or a sermon . . . at least one I remember."
"Just make it brief and talk about what you do know, or remember," I said. This was Howie's problem, not ours. I was tired of being his crutch.
"That's like nothing. I know the clerk down at Starbuck's more than I know my own mother. She didn't know who I was when I visited her at the hospital. She kept asking for Annie."
I didn't want to follow up that line of conversation. "Half the services I've been to, the presiding reverend never met the deceased and still managed to say something nice. Stand up there holding Julie's hand. She doesn't have to speak; just give you a little security."
"Won't most of the people know about your accident and loss of memory?" Betsy asked.
"Yeah. That's all Ronnie want's to discuss with people, like his wife's son is some kind of freak. But I don't know any of those relatives except Martha. Quinn says she's flying out here. Are you coming out too?"
Betsy rolled her eyes. "No. We have to stick around and run Econ. Look, just tell the gathering how painful it is to have missed all those good times by not remembering this lovely woman everyone says is such a saint."
"Maybe I could do that," he said, hesitation in his voice. He sounded like he was agreeing to a root canal.
"As long as Martha's flying out, I'll send your clothes with her. You'll have your suit tomorrow." He told me where to find the outfit in his closet. It wouldn't be difficult. He only owned one suit. We turned the phone over to Molly who wanted to offer her condolences to Howie.
I had a second drink and let my belly dilute the alcohol with pot roast before leaving for Howie's house. We dallied over desert and Betsy was readying Molly for bed by the time I left. I drove south toward town on the West Surry Road but instead of following Court Street, turned back north west on the Old Walpole to Howie's home. It was a dark moonless night and I was too far from town for streetlights. The house sits on a slight rise, at the end of a long driveway and I had never visited at night. I nearly passed.