A/N: I would like to dedicate this story to one of my dear friends who recently lost her father.

Grace Belkin called later that day, and Hawkeye answered. I had told everyone in my family what had happened, and they agreed not to gripe about phone usage. (At least for the day.)

"Mom?" asked Calla. "Are we going to the funeral?"

"He just died yesterday," I said. "There aren't even funeral arrangements yet."

"We should go. Heis...WAS my grandfather, after all."

"That's true, he is," I realized. Before Calla had said that, I had never thought of Hawkeye's family as Calla's relatives. She had great-aunts and -uncles, and cousins, and maybe even a great-grandparent or two.

"Look, Grace, I can't just snap my fingers and fly out there!" Hawkeye shouted. "Now will you get off my case?"

"Okay, let's go upstairs," I said to Calla. Elliot, Michelle, and Dad had went to Milbrook, and Mother was off at Kath's house baking dog treats (or something like that).

Hawkeye motioned for us to wait. "Yeah, bye." He hung up the phone. "Look, I'm not going to be able to go there alone. I've never had to plan a funeral before."

"You want us to come?" asked Calla.

"I NEED you to come."

"Sure," I said softly.

XXX

"You're going with a strange man to his father's funeral?" Mother demanded.

"He's not a strange man," I protested. "He's my ex-husband."

"You're going to a funeral with your ex-husband!"

I rolled my eyes. "Mother, your listening skills are improving."

She snorted. "I do not approve of this."

"You don't have to."

XXX

My mother could disapprove as much as she wanted to.

We were going to Maine.

"No Mrs. Linga for a week!" Calla crowed as she threw a black Western shirt into her green and gold suitcase. "What a shame. I'll miss five days of adverbs."

It was eight-thirty on the night before we would leave for Crabapple Cove. Calla had put off packing, and was cramming things into her suitcase. (That's my daughter, always prepared.)

"What are you wearing for the funeral?" I asked.

"Clothes," she replied.

I groaned.

"What do you think about my black flared skirt and light green blouse?" she asked. "If--oh crap, is that in the laundry?"

She raced out of the room and downstairs.

"Is she still packing?" asked Hawkeye. He poked his head out of Elliot and Michelle's room.

"So far all she has is two pairs of jeans, a brown skirt, black top, and one pair of pajamas," I answered. "Oh, and a pair of white high heels."

Hawkeye came into the room. "I can't believe you're coming with. Crabapple Cove will go off its rocker."

"If it's anything like Stockton it will," I agreed.

"Found it!" Calla shouted triumphantly as she entered the room. "Wait...did I wear this yesterday?"

Life with Calla is always interesting.