(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter Three: "You're Never Alone"

Diana

She blinked back tears, watching as Harrison and Greg took turns delivering the eulogy they wrote for their grandfather. The two boys had become fast friends since they met a year ago and learned they were cousins. In a way, it didn't surprise her when they both volunteered to give the eulogy. Together.

She softly closed her eyes, remembering the way each of Gregory's four children confessed they didn't think they could make it through delivering the eulogy. The way Allie paled and shrank into herself when the priest suggested the oldest grandchild could deliver it. Her daughter was headstrong and opinionated, but she was terrified of speaking in public.

She opened her eyes and glanced over to her left. Olivia sat between her and Casey, leaning against him. She could tell the older woman wasn't on any pain killers today. She could see it in the way her blue eyes were brighter and more focused than they had been the last two days. In the way she shifted every few moments, unable to find comfort in the face of her fractured scapula and cracked ribs.

Nicola nestled against her right side and she hugged her closer, resting her chin on her head. She listened as the boys described their relationship with their grandfather. In a way, as hard as it was to live apart from Casey and their two youngest children, she was grateful the three of them had the last few months with Gregory. Living with him and Olivia since July gave them irreplaceable memories. They just should have had more time with him.

"-and once we passed the ninth hole, Poppop would let us drive the golf cart," she heard Greg say.

"He just made us promise not to tell Nana," Harrison added, causing laughter and chuckles to ripple through the church.

"Harrison and Nicola started calling Olivia 'Nana'."

She balanced her cell phone between her ear and her right shoulder. In a way, she wasn't surprised. They had been living with Olivia and Gregory for the last month. "How does that make you feel?" she asked as she pulled a tray of chocolate croissant from the oven.

Casey was quiet for a long moment before he sighed deeply. "I'm ok with it," he admitted. She smiled to herself as she heard him continue, "I mean, I can tell she loves them. She doesn't treat them any different than she treats Cait and Sean's kids." She nodded, silently agreeing, as he concluded, "She's not replacing Mom."

"Alex is still 'Grandma'. They all know that."

"Yeah."

"And, honestly, at the end of the day, our kids can never have too many people who love them."

She felt Nicola move as the pre-teen looked up. "I got to drive the golf cart too even though I didn't play like Harrison and Greg," she whispered. With a soft smile, she nodded and drew her daughter back into her embrace.


Evy

She shifted slightly, desperately wanting to pull her hand back. Some guy – David Something-or-Other – was gripping her right hand and squeezing it tightly as he continued to shake it as he talked. He was just like all the others. Everyone who came to Dad's funeral at St. Philip's. Everyone who migrated over to the country club for the after-party. "

(She immediately heard her sister's voice in her head to correct her. It's not a party, Evy. It's called a repast. Whatever, Cait. It certainly felt like a party.)

The guests all took their turns grabbing her right hand and squeezing the hell out of it as they apologized for Dad's death. Like they caused it or something. Then, they invariably shared some story about Dad. Whether it happened 40 years ago or four months ago, it didn't matter. They had to tell her. They had to share this memory of Dad with her. And, they just felt the need to crush her right hand into oblivion as they did it.

Did anyone care about the way her right hand throbbed from being squeezed and pulled all morning?

She sighed, feeling the way she nodded as David Something-or-Other laughed at his own story. She forced a half-chuckle out of her mouth, even though she had no idea what she was laughing at. David Something-or-Other's laughter trailed off and she seized the brief lull in the conversation. "Thank you very much for being here today," she said, parroting the phrase she'd been repeating to most everyone who stopped to speak to her. "My family appreciates it." Before he could open his mouth to reply, she pulled her aching hand back and forced a polite smile before she turned away.

She needed to get the hell out of here.

The sound of the conversations around her seemed magnified as she hurried through the ballroom, forcing her eyes to the ground so she didn't make eye contact with anyone. Her black dress whistled against her as she moved and she cupped her right hand protectively in her left one. As she stepped through the doors and into the somewhat empty hallway, she exhaled deeply. Her ears rang and her skin crawled, coated with a fine layer of icy sweat. She blinked, seeing one of the standing bars with two stools tucked into the corner. With a shaky inhale, she walked over to it and swallowed deeply. "Can I have a glass of ice?" she asked softly as she climbed onto the stool. Gently, she lay her right hand on the surface and lowered her forehead to her left hand. "And, a glass of scotch."

"On the rocks?"

She glanced up and nodded. "One ice cube." That's how Dad usually drank it. Used to drink it, her brain urgently insisted. She rolled her eyes and sat up, straightening her shoulders. The bartender put the glass of ice in front of her and she nudged her aching right hand around it. She hissed as the freezing cold ice tempered the flames shooting up from the muscles and tendons of her palm.

"Evy?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing the deep voice from behind. For God's sake! Watch out, Blondie, she remembered Bette saying. You're never alone at a funeral. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned slightly, looking over her right shoulder. She blinked, feeling a spark of familiarity in the face of the young guy staring back at her. Was he Dad's intern from a few summers ago?

The stranger looked back at her and she saw a bashful smile creep across his face. His brown eyes lit up as he said, "You don't remember me. Do you?"

"I-"

"Benjy. Benjy Evans."

Her lips parted as she gaped. "Hiiiii," she said slowly as her mind raced. Benjy Evans. When was the last time she had seen him? He lived with his mother in Monterey. Over the years, she had occasionally crossed paths with him at Christmas and in the summer when he was in town to visit his father.

He chuckled nervously and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. "It's pretty rough catching up with you at a time like this." Their eyes met as she heard him say softly, "I'm sorry about your dad."

"Your scotch, miss."

She glanced over at the bartender before she quickly turned back to Benjy. "Thanks," she sighed.

He looked at the empty bar stool to her right. "Mind if I join you?"

You're never alone. She shook her head and turned back around. "You aren't going to tell me some rambling story about a conversation you and my dad had 15 years ago, are you?"

"You kidding? Your father scared the shit out of me," he retorted. "No way could I have managed a conversation with him." He said it so quickly and so matter-of-factly that she couldn't help but laugh as she sipped the scotch. The liquor immediately warmed her throat and she felt herself start to relax as the feeling spread to her chest. He glanced up, amused as he chuckled. "Too soon?"

"No." She sighed into the well of the glass, watching the dark amber liquid for a long moment. "No, it's fine." Their eyes met as she explained, "It's odd to be the keeper of all these memories about Dad people insist on telling me."

He nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It was the same when my abuelita died a few years ago." He sighed deeply and shrugged. "I think- I think they think it helps when we hear their memories. Like, it helps to keep them alive when we hear the stories."

She nodded, sitting in thoughtful silence as he ordered a drink from the bartender. Except Dad wasn't alive. No amount of memories would ever make that so. "Maybe," she mused when he looked back at her. "I could do without the bruising handshakes."

He frowned and looked down at her hand molded to the glass of ice. "Yeah, I bet."

"Did you come down just for the funer- today or are you staying with your dad for a bit?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

"Actually, I live here now. I moved to town just before Christmas."

"Oh." Before Christmas. When she was in New York City finishing up the fall semester of her freshman year. When Dad was alive and calling her every afternoon. When Mom was going to the max with buying Christmas presents for everyone. "For good?"

"For a little while anyway." He smiled and she thought she saw a flash of his father, Ben, in it. "I graduated in December. I'm going to work with Dad while I study for the LSAT. I'm taking it in October."

She nodded as she took a deeper sip of the scotch. As she opened her mouth to reply, she heard an odd sound coming from the ballroom. She heard…singing. She felt Benjy follow her gaze as she frowned and pushed herself off the stool.

Singing?

SINGING?

What the hell was wrong with people?


Casey

He stood behind Olivia, feeling something of a guard. His hands tightened on the top of the armchair she sat in, watching as the line of people waiting to talk with her only grew. She had stood for the first hour or so, somewhat insistently before he had one of the waiters find her a comfortable chair. Bette's whispered words as they left the house to go to the church echoed in his mind as he looked down at his stepmother's head. She only took half a painkiller this morning, Muscles. She said she didn't want to be a zombie at Greggy's funeral.

As the current person offering their condolences stood to leave, he knelt on her left side. "Are you ok?" he asked. She nodded, shifting slightly in the chair as she leaned forward and exhaled. "Need anything? Tea? Water? A pain killer?"

Olivia glanced up, her eyes glinting with pain as she watched him for a long moment. "Not yet," she replied softly, awkwardly patting his hand with her left one.

He nodded and stood taller, gesturing the next person in line to come forward. As they did, he heard a familiar voice say his name. He looked over, seeing Meg standing a few feet away. He smiled and held up his hand, index finger extended as he turned away. "Bette?" The older woman looked over and nodded, taking his place behind Olivia's chair as he went to Meg. He hugged his friend, never remembering how much shorter than him she was until she was in his embrace. "I saw you and Ben at the church, but-"

"It's ok," she said as she pulled back, a sad smile on her face. "There were so many people, I knew I wouldn't have a chance to talk to you there."

He nodded and glanced around. The country club made their largest ballroom available when they learned that was where the family wanted to have the gathering after the funeral. Like the church, the room was practically filled to capacity as people moved through the buffet line, chatted with each other, or stood in line to offer their condolences to Olivia. It was a testament to Gregory that so many people attended his funeral. He had been respected in the legal and business communities. "Gregory- Gregory meant a lot to many people."

With a wistful smile, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "He meant a lot to you," she said softly. Even as he nodded, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. With another squeeze, she smiled brightly and mercifully changed the subject. "I was just catching up with Diana. It'll be great when she and Allie move out here in a few months."

"That's the plan," he sighed, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead as he glanced back at Olivia. She was still sitting in the chair, nodding at the woman she was listening to. But, he saw the painful tension that furrowed in her brow. In the way she leaned into her left side. In the way she bit the corner of her lip.

He felt Meg touch his arm as she said, "I don't want to keep you." He turned back to her, an apology rising in his throat as she continued, "It's ok. We'll talk when things settle down." She reached out, hugging him quickly, as she said, "Just know that Ben and I are thinking about you." He nodded, sighing. "Speaking of Ben, I need to find him. He went looking for Benjy so we could leave."

"Benjy. Right. How's that working out?"

She smiled tightly and blinked. "That's a topic for another day entirely."

He nodded as the sound of singing echoed in the ballroom. They turned, open-mouthed surprise transforming their faces, as they watched the small circle around Sean, Caitlin, and Charlie expand. Slowly, as if almost unsure what to do, the crowd began to sing along. He chuckled as he rubbed his face, ignoring the questioning look Meg gave him. She shrugged with a confused smile as he saw Evy walk back into the ballroom, followed by Benjy Evans. "Hey, there's Benjy," he said to her, squeezing her shoulder quickly before he stepped away.

As he neared Evy, he saw her wipe tears from her eyes. Her lips mouthed the lyrics as her expression twisted, her right hand resting over her heart. She looked up when she saw him at her side and leaned into his chest. "You know," he whispered in her ear, coaxing her chin up, "Gregory would've loved this."

She nodded and inhaled deeply as she wiped her cheeks dry. "Yeah," she sighed, her voice shaky as the chorus of singing voices swelled. He took her left hand as they walked over to join their siblings.


Charlie

They could breathe at the country club.

If the funeral at the church was the culmination of two weeks of grief and pain, then the club was the release. He saw it in Caitlin's face. As they walked into the ballroom, he saw a lightness in her expression that had been absent since her father's death. Not being able to have the funeral until Casey and Sean brought Gregory's remains and Olivia back from Italy certainly didn't help. Waiting for them was more than understandable. But, the waiting meant they had all existed in a bizarre state of limbo the last few weeks. Stuck in between the shock and the struggle to learn to live in a world without Gregory.

But now, the funeral was over.

He wasn't very religious, but he thought there might have been truth in the words the priest spoke. Think not of the sadness you feel now. Remember a time when Gregory made you smile. When he made you laugh. When he was there. Remember the good. He heard it in the way Blake said in the limousine as they drove over to the ballroom, "I remember when Poppop told me stories. I liked them. He told good stories." He saw it in the way his wife looked over, her blank expression transforming into one of joy. He heard it in the way she chuckled softly and nuzzled their daughter against her as she said, "You're right, sweetie. Poppop always told the best stories."

Now, his wife was surrounded by her childhood friends and he could breathe easy. She was going to be ok. It would take time, but they all would be. He glanced around, watching his children scattered around the room, chasing their cousins through the maze of tables. An admonishment rose in his throat before he shook his head. Fuck it. Let them play and run around the ballroom. The last two weeks had been hard on them too. Blake and Sean's twin girls had the roughest time. How do you easily explain death to children? They didn't understand that their grandfather was gone forever. How do you easily explain to them to not be afraid of the bruises on their grandmother's face?

"Man, you remember that killer party your dad threw for Game 6 of the Series in '96?"

He glanced up. Caitlin and Sean were close enough in age that their circle of friends seemingly overlapped. The two groups of friends blended to one as they conquered one corner of the ballroom while the condolence sharing had shifted into reminiscing. He watched as Sean chuckled and took a deep sip of his beer. "Hell yes," he replied, grinning. "Booked up the whole restaurant and brought in all those big screen televisions so we could watch the game."

"Man, your dad went all out that night," another one of Sean's friends piped up. "Best party I ever went to and I'm not even a baseball fan."

"You're lucky he didn't hear you say that back then! He might've thrown you out!"

Caitlin chuckled, rubbing her stomach. "He insisted I come back from UCLA that night to be there when – not if – the Yankees won." She glanced over at him and explained with a smile, "I think we celebrated until almost two a.m."

Sean exclaimed, "He knew though! He was so confident they were going to win and-"

"-win at home!" he and Caitlin continued in unison. He watched as their eyes met, matching smiles on their faces.

An odd look came over Sean's face as he put his bottle down. With a smile, he sang softly, "Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today."

He and the rest of the group chuckled and he saw his wife's eyes widen even as a grin spread across her face. "Sean!" she playfully admonished with a laugh.

But, he got where Sean was going with this.

"I want to be a part of it," he sang aloud, his deep tenor voice joining in with Sean's, "New York, New York."

Sean smirked and continued to sing the song as the group of friends circled around them. He could see the confusion mixed with amusement in their expressions. They obviously weren't devoted baseball fans. He grew up a Giants fan and Gregory never failed to give him grief about his struggling team. His tribe of fans had Journey songs to belt out at the ball games. Yankees fans? They had "New York, New York". The granddaddy of all songs celebrating the city they played in. He went over to his wife and took her hand, pulling her with him as they stood next to her brother. Her cheeks flushed and she laughed, pressing herself against him as far as her stomach would allow. "Thanks, honey," she whispered in his ear, squeezing his hand tightly.

He kissed her forehead as Sean threw his arm around his sister's shoulders. "I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep," they sang and his heart leapt when he heard his wife laugh her way through the lyrics. It was the first time he'd heard that sound in weeks. Sean's voice rang with enthusiasm and Charlie noticed the rest of the ballroom slowly turn attention to their corner. "And find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap!"

After a moment, he heard it. One-by-one, other people began to join in with them. Slowly, a ringing chorus echoed in the ballroom, drowning out whatever conversations were remaining. But, maybe, just maybe this was what they all needed, he thought to himself as he watched Casey and Evy come through the crowd. He felt a pang, seeing the fresh heartbreak on his young sister-in-law's face as she made her way over. Slowly, he stepped back as he watched Caitlin embrace her tightly as they continued to sing. She cupped her sister's face and smoothed back her hair before she affectionately chucked her chin. As always, it merited a smile from Evy even as Sean wrapped his arms around his younger sister from behind and kissed her cheek. Caitlin reached out, leaning into Casey as he rested his chin on her head.

He stood next to Shasta, who flashed him a small smile, as seemingly the entire room sang, "If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere!"He watched as the four siblings stood together in the center of the crowd, their arms around each other. Their laughter mixed in with the song as they threw their heads back, singing their hearts out. "It's up to you, New York, New York!"

Singing for their father.


Bette

She came back to the armchair and grimaced as she crouched next to Olivia's left side. Ugh, her knees could not take this in her old age! "It's the kids, Livy. The kids. They're the ones who started singing."

Olivia's eyes narrowed as she nodded, shifting her body weight onto her left hip. "Sean," she heard her say and she strained to hear her soft voice over the singing. "It was probably Sean."

She nodded, squeezing her left hand. "They're all together though," she said, looking into her eyes. "The four of them."

With a small nod, she saw the shadow of a smile wash across her friend's face. Her lips parted even as she saw her throat work. "The four of them," she repeated softly, her eyes fluttering shut as she winced and her face paled.

She glanced up, relieved to see that the seemingly never-ending line of people waiting to talk to Olivia had diminished as they joined the singing crowd. "Livy," she began, reaching for a glass of water on the table next to them, "take another pill. Please! Greggy wouldn't want you sitting here in pain."

"Only half," she insisted as she opened her eyes and turned up her left palm expectantly. As she gasped and began to gather steam for an objection, she heard Olivia continue, "I need to remember this, Bette, and I can't if I'm drugged."

With a sigh, she nodded and reached into her purse, pulling out the prescription bottle. She found the other half of the pill she snapped in half that morning and placed it in Olivia's palm. She watched her take the pill and then reach for the water glass. "Keep drinking," she said, feeling something like a nurse mother. As her friend glanced back up, she said, "Last thing we need to have happen is to have you dehydrate yourself."

With a slightly irritated expression, Olivia took another placating sip. But, a moment later, she leaned into the left corner of the cushioned armchair and closed her eyes. She sighed and took back the glass, watching her friend sigh and the way her lips moved. But, she couldn't hear what she said over the singing. "What was that, Livy?"

Her eyes opened slightly as she repeated, her voice tight, "He should be here."

"I know," she sighed, rubbing Olivia's thigh. "I know."


A/N: Lyrics are from "Theme from 'New York, New York'" (composed by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb).