Writing exercise on Layering

Betty wanted to talk to Eleanor alone to pay her condolences about Margo, but when she arrived at the house there was a small crowd of people waiting to enter. Staff members were helping the guests with their coats and brushing snow off their boots.

Betty had been to the McKenna Family Estate many times when she and Margo were in college, but she still was in awe. The house and grounds were immense and meticulously maintained. Since Eleanor made sure everything appeared camera-ready on a regular day, Betty expected nothing less on the day of her daughter’s memorial service.

As the people started to file through the front door, Betty followed behind. Looking down to the foyer from the top of the landing, she saw clusters of silver-haired people, all dressed appropriately in black. Unable to blend in, not only by her age but in her dingy, beige jacket, Betty moved cautiously. Many of the people looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure if she recognized them from a previous introduction or from the TV news.

Since Eleanor had practically summoned Betty to Grosse Pointe that morning, and paid for her plane ticket from Chicago, Betty was sure Eleanor wanted to see her. She didn’t know why she doubted this. Even though she did not see Margo very often during the ten years since they graduated, they were best friends in school.

Scanning the room, Betty quickly located Eleanor. A widow, well into her seventies, whose daughter just died, Eleanor showed few visible signs of her age or anguish. She was a statuesque woman who rarely displayed any emotion more than mildly fitting any given situation.

There seemed to be an informal receiving line leading to Eleanor. Betty drifted into the line and started rehearsing what she would say. The noise level in the room was an amplified whisper. It was hard for Betty to make out what any one person was saying. As she was drawn closer to Eleanor, she began to hear Eleanor’s slow, methodical speech with just a hint of a drawl. Even though she lived in Michigan for most of her life, Eleanor’s Alabama roots were evident.

“Thank you so much for coming. You are so kind.” Betty heard Eleanor repeat to each guest she greeted. With those more familiar, Eleanor had a bit longer exchange, but the tone and sentiment remained the same.

Just after the next couple, it would be Betty’s turn. She hadn’t yet decided if she should embrace Eleanor or just shake her hand. Tired of listing the pros and cons to either option, Betty decided to leave it up to Eleanor. But, then again, she wanted Betty there because she was Margo’s friend. Maybe she would like a warm hug.

As the couple moved away from Eleanor, Betty smiled sympathetically and began her approach. Seeing Betty from the corner of her eye, Eleanor turned and walked away. Betty’s smile drooped and she stood in place trying to quickly figure out what just happened. From behind, Betty heard a man ask for everyone to kindly move into the great room and take their seats for the memorial service was about to begin.