“No.”
Mr. Lawson glanced around at the other mourners.
“Come with me.”
He led us away from the crowd to a quieter part of the cemetery.
Then he turned toward Eric.
“Take off the jacket.”
Eric blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Please. I need to see it.”
Still confused, Eric removed the jacket and handed it over.
Mr. Lawson carefully checked the pockets.
Nothing.
For a moment, I thought he had been mistaken.
Then he began running his fingers along the inside lining.
Halfway across the chest, he stopped.
He pressed lightly against the fabric.
There was a faint crinkling sound.
All three of us looked at one another.
Something was hidden underneath the lining.
Mr. Lawson turned the jacket slightly and examined the stitching.
My brother arrived at our father’s funeral wearing a bright red suit, and I was immediately upset. Every other man in the chapel wore black, charcoal, or dark gray. Then Eric walked in.
