The next thing he did was to check into Sam's bank accounts, so he could handle his affairs. And he was horrified at what he found there. The balance was infinitely less than he had expected. Sam spent everything he made, mainly on his life-style and his girlfriends. In fact, he had already borrowed ahead against future salary in his next play, and aside from the small amount of cash in his checking account, he was in debt up to his eyeballs. There was barely enough to pay the maid's and nurse's salaries over the next few months, until the trial was over. It was a hell of a spot to put the children in, and Arthur remembered Solange saying as much to him years before. She had always wanted Sam to think of the girls, and save some money. But instead he bought her diamond bracelets and fur coats, and God only knew what he spent on his other women. He was known to be a generous man, and he had never skimped on anything, once he could afford to. But now it left him with ten thousand dollars in the bank and ten times that in debts. It was amazing how little one knew about one's friends, and Arthur wished he had talked to him more sternly years before. He had never realized that Sam was irresponsible to this extent, and now it represented disaster for his children.
Arthur had tried to talk to Marjorie about it, bemoaning the children's fate, and hoping to stir her sympathy for them. But he was disappointed to find she only had harsh words for them, making comments about their undoubtedly being gypsies like their parents. She seemed to have no compassion whatsoever for them.
But in the next few days he barely saw his wife. He had his hands full with Sam and the girls, the press constantly badgering all of them, even the children, and he had to make the funeral arrangements for Solange. There was no one else to do it.
The funeral was set for three days after Sam had gone to jail. She lay in state for two days, and on the third day, they held the service. And it was amazing to Arthur how many people came, mostly out of respect for Sam, but there were a great many people who had known and liked her. “She was a lovely girl …” he heard countless people say, “… absolutely beautiful … didn't know how lucky he was … should have been an actress too … always wanted her to model for me … wonderful with her kids … hell of a girl … lucky man to have a wife like that … she was French to her very soul … incredible girl … don't understand why he did it … she was crazy about him …” It went on and on, and Arthur sat in the front row, with the girls and their nurse, trying not to cry as they closed the lid of the coffin. Hilary sat very stiff next to him, and once she walked right up to it and stared down at Solange, and then she kissed her, and returned to her seat with a wooden look of grief, as though she were numb from the immensity of her pain, but she wouldn't let Arthur touch her. In fact, she wouldn't let anyone close to her. She only held tightly to Alexandra's hand, answering all her questions about why Mommy was sleeping in the box covered with white roses. Arthur had paid for all the flowers himself, he hadn't wanted to deplete their funds any further, even for their mother's funeral service.
Alexandra thought Solange looked just like Snow White after she ate the apple, and she kept asking Hilary when she was going to wake up … and if Daddy was going to come and kiss her.
“No, she's going to go on sleeping like that, Axie.” Her voice was very quiet as the organist played the Ave Maria in church.
“Why?”
“Because she is.” She shushed her. “Now be quiet.” She tightened her grip on her sister's hand, and her face went dead white as she watched her mother's coffin roll slowly past her. She stood silently, and then suddenly reached out and pulled two white roses from the heavy blanket of flowers that covered the casket, and handed one of them to Alexandra. Alexandra started to cry, and whispered that she wanted Mommy to wake up, and she couldn't breathe like that with the box closed. It was as though she knew her mother was dead, but none of them could face it. Even little Megan had begun to cry, as though she understood too, and the nurse had to take her outside where she could wail in the winter sunshine. It seemed incongruous to bury her on such a pretty day, but perhaps not … everything about Solange had always been filled with light and flowers and sunshine, from her flaming red hair to the brilliant green eyes to the lithe body that was always in motion.
Arthur took the children back to the apartment in the limousine, and then went to the cemetery himself to see that everything was attended to. And then he went to see Sam at Rikers Island. He brought him one white rose from the casket, like the one Hilary had given Axie.
Arthur looked very tall and thin and pale, as he entered the holding cell in his dark suit with his homburg in his hand. He looked like the messenger of Death, and in a way he was, as Sam looked up at him and trembled.
“I thought you'd want this.” He held out the white rose, and with a trembling hand, Sam took it.
“How are the girls?”
“They're doing very well. Hilary is keeping them all intact. It's as though she's taken on Solange's role, as their mother.”
Sam dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands, still clutching the rose Arthur had brought him, but it had the smell of death, and sadness, and funerals. There was no joy left in his love for her, or his life, he felt as though everything were over. And in an important way it was. He lay in his cell day and night, and thought only of Solange. Even his daughters seemed remote now. He wondered how much they would hate him in later years, when they discovered, and fully understood, that he had murdered their mother. It would make any kind of relationship with them impossible. Everything was impossible now. And life was no longer worth living. He had already said as much to Arthur, who told him he had to think of the girls now. He owed them everything. But what did he have to give? His debts? His guilt? His bad habits? His overwhelming remorse for killing the one woman he loved … he was certain they would never understand that.
“I've been thinking about the girls, Sam.” Arthur cleared his throat, praying that Sam wouldn't fight him. “I'd like to sell all of Solange's jewelry so that they have a little money to fall back on, and you're going to need quite a lot for attorney's fees, particularly if I can convince you to get another attorney. In my case, all we have to do is satisfy the firm for my time. I don't want anything out of it personally or directly.” The last thing he wanted was to make money for defending Sam. But he still didn't want to do it at all. Sam had killed the only woman he had ever loved and admired, in fact almost worshiped, and no matter how close they were, or how great the bond, it was going to be almost impossible for Arthur to defend him. He had tried to explain that to him, but Sam didn't want to hear it.
“What do you think about selling the jewelry?” He looked down at Sam, who turned to him with a deathly pale face covered with beard stubble.
“Fine. If it'll help the girls, get rid of it. Do you want the keys to the safe deposit box at the bank?”