“Dearly beloved, the family requests that you join them in the courtyard for the committal.” Eyes filled with pity and unspent tears land on me. My brothers and I stand, and with one last lingering look towards the coffins, I swallow the knot in my throat, roll my shoulders, and lead the way to the back of the church. I stride through the sea of whispers, eyes fixed on the wrought iron doors ahead. Nearly there. Nearly over. My cell buzzes in my breast pocket. I hope it’s my assistant letting me know the jet is refueled and ready to take me back to London.
