By this time, Leo had crossed over and reached them. He met Matthew’s frazzled stare and grabbed Ben’s other arm. “Come on, Ben,” Leo said in a soothing tone. “There are a lot of people visiting Phil right now. Let’s sit down somewhere and wait.”
“But I have to…”
“You will—soon,” Matthew assured him, following Leo’s lead by speaking in a low, calming voice, while helping Leo guide Ben into the director’s office. “You’ll talk to him in just a few minutes.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Sloane, as if asking for her assistance in righting the situation.
Sloane stepped forward immediately. “Please forgive Ben’s unfortunate outburst,” she said respectfully, addressing Phil’s family, but making certain the rest of the guests heard her as well. “You know how close he and Phil were, ever since college. He’s taking Phil’s death very hard. I know he meant no disrespect. I apologize on his behalf.”
As Sloane was speaking, Wallace hurried into the room, accompanied by a young Asian woman. His gaze darted around, trying to see where Ben had gone. He visibly relaxed when he saw Matthew and Leo leading him into the office.
“Thank you, Sloane.” He quietly addressed her as soon as she’d finished issuing her apology, and the activity in the room had started to normalize. “I tried to stop Ben in the parking lot. He shoved right past me. He’s even worse off than I realized.”
Sloane was only half-listening to Wallace’s words. She was staring at the young woman Wallace was escorting—a woman who’d now come over to stand by his side.
She was the spitting image of the woman in the photo Lucy had given her—older, but a dead-ringer for Meili.
At first Sloane thought it actually was Meili. Then she recognized the subtle differences in features and face shape. But, dear Lord, they could be sisters.
Wallace noted the expression on Sloane’s face, and took it to be curiosity.
“Forgive me. You two haven’t met,” he said. “Sloane Burbank, this is Cindy Liu. Cindy, this is Matthew’s daughter, Sloane. We’ve all known her since she was born.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Cindy shook Sloane’s hand. “And please accept my sympathies over Phil Leary’s death. Wallace has told me how close he and his friends are—your father included. This is a tragic loss.”
“Thank you so much.” Sloane had recovered herself by now. She was dying to ask Cindy if she had a relative named Meili. But now was not the time. Clearly, she and Wallace were an item. Sloane would find another opportunity—soon—to find out what she wanted to know.
For now, she placed a comforting hand on Wallace’s arm, offering her compassion and support. “I’m so sorry. You know that Phil will always be remembered, honored, and loved.” She stepped aside as her mother walked over, giving Wallace a warm hug and some kind words.
The timing couldn’t be better.
“Would you excuse me?” Sloane asked, glancing from Wallace to Cindy. “I want to go inside and see if my father and Leo need some help.”
“Of course.” Wallace nodded his understanding, then turned to introduce Rosalyn to Cindy.
Sloane slipped away and headed back over to Derek.
“Everything okay?” he asked as she reached his side.
“I’m not sure,” Sloane murmured. “Would you mind staying out here and keeping an eye on Wallace and his lady friend? I’m going to see if my dad and Leo need help with Ben. Afterward, you and I have to talk.”
Derek shot her a quizzical look, but held off asking questions. “Not a problem. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Sloane crossed the room and went into the office.
Both her father and Leo glanced up when she entered. Ben was slumped in a chair, looking totally out of it.
“We can’t get through to him,” her father told Sloane in a low tone. “It’s like he doesn’t even hear our voices. He just keeps saying that Phil is outside, waiting to talk to him. I’m afraid that if we shove his nose in the truth, he’ll start ranting and raving again. The last thing Phil’s family needs is another scene.”
Sloane nodded. Stepping forward, she squatted down in front of Ben and took his hands in hers. “Hi, Ben.”
He blinked. “Sloane,” he slurred her name in surprise. “Is it poker night? Are you here to join the game?”
“No, Ben. It’s not poker night. And we’re not at your apartment, or at Leo’s, Wallace’s, or my dad’s.” She squeezed Ben’s fingers. “We’re in a funeral home. Underneath all that pain you’re feeling, you do know that, right?”
He looked around, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. “A funeral home,” he repeated. “Yes, I know that. I drove here. I had to…for Phil.”
“That’s right—for Phil,” Sloane agreed, keeping her tone even and quiet. “His passing is a terrible loss. We all feel it. I know how much you loved him. And I know that you’re grieving. But please don’t tarnish his memory by expressing your grief through shouting. It won’t bring him back. And no amount of liquor will make the pain go away. That’s why you’re with friends. We’re all here to help one another—to help you. We’re honoring Phil together.”
“Phil’s dead.” It was as if Sloane’s words of comfort had penetrated Ben’s alcohol-induced stupor. Tears filled his eyes. “Phil’s dead.”