Fifi's funeral was Wednesday morning at eleven o clock.
An air of shock and gloom prevailed in Cole.
Fifi's few close friends made cakes and coffee, and helped Jim receive callers.
Many visitors came to the house from Sunday afternoon until Tuesday evening.
Janie was feeling tired and low when she finally got to bed, but managed to appear attractive and fresh.
Jim was, in no way, scared of what might have been said, or what was being said of their separation and Fifi's death. In his mind, Fifi was at fault in every way for her condition. He did, however, feel heartbroken beyond words, and knew he'd probably never get over it.
Wednesday broke cloudy. At seven thirty, Jim awoke, showered, and was in the process of getting dressed when the telephone rang.
"Jim," Janie said, in a depressed voice. "I'm so tired! I just don't think I can make it to the funeral. I'm going to call Taylor Baker or Martin Roberts about a checkup."
"That's perfectly allright, Janie," Jim assured. "You've gone beyond the call of duty, anyway. Matter of fact, as you've probably figured out by now, I'm not staying in Cole. As soon as I can
get a few things straightened out, I'm leaving this nosy town! Without Fifi, life will never be the same. We had our problems, but she just couldn't get hold of hers without all that drink and stuff. This has been a hard decision for me, but I'm selling our property here and moving away."
"Good for you!" Janie congratulated. "I have confidence in you, Jim. I sincerely believe you can start a whole new life elsewhere."
"I'm glad you agree, Janie. Now, be sure to call a doctor and have him look at you!"
"I'm sure it's nothing but exhaustion."
"Thanks again, Janie," Jim concluded. "I'll be in contact with you about helping me go through some of Fifi's things."
The threat of rain loomed every minute of the funeral, which began in the chapel of the Glenn Funeral Home, with burial following in an old family cemetery about a mile from Cole. Only several of Fifi's family had been buried there, but Jim had heard her say, more than once, that she wanted to be buried there.
At approximately eleven thirty, about twenty cars, lights on, followed the Glenn hearse to the cemetery.
There were only four people in the special family seats: Jim; Mark Engle; family cousins Norman and Margaret Acker.
All Jim could think about during the funeral was what he was going to do when he left Cole.
As everyone was leaving the burial ground, several couldn't help hearing one voice in particular that sobbed and carried above all other moans and groans.
"Shut up, Janet," Bella Silverman said to her equally Jewish daughter, "before I slap your face!"
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