There was no tribute to the young boy who used to sleep with a leather baseball glove under his pillow, or the grown man who still called his mother every Sunday afternoon to check basic cooking recipes.

Martha turned her eyes back toward Valerie.

“Open this lid right now.”

A quiet murmur passed through the small group of lingering spectators.

Valerie’s face hardened instantly.

“The official service has already concluded.”

“I did not ask whether your service was over,” Martha replied.

“Christopher specifically requested a closed casket funeral,” Valerie claimed.