Twelve
Designed as a small, intimate setting for limited gatherings, the Port Charles Eternal Rest chapel seemed anything but. To Carly Corinthos, seated beside her silent husband, the room seemed overly large.
Circular in design, the chapel was just large enough to house around fifty people at any one time. But other than herself and Sonny and a cadre of his guards, there were no other mourners present. It was as if Mike had lived an entire lifetime and not impacted anyone enough to oblige them to attend his memorial.
Padded chairs upholstered in muted designs sat unused. Simple flower arrangements lined the edges of the room, polite gestures of sympathy from Sonny's associates in the 'coffee' business. Interspersed liberally among the floral tributes were silent guards in black suits.
A continual stream of instrumental music wafted from speakers placed strategically in the walls around the room. Carly could not understand how anyone, much less someone mired in grief, would not be further saddened by the mournful sounds.
Movement at the back of the room drew her attention. And Sonny's as well. Florence Taggert, the mother of Detective Marcus Taggert stepped gracefully into the room. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, and she moved decisively to the front of the chapel where a golden urn and a framed portrait of Mike Corbin sat.
"Why is she here?" If Carly's whispered query reached Florence Taggert's ears, she gave no indication.
"I remember her from the old neighborhood," Sonny explained. "I guess she must have known Mike back then."
Together Sonny and Carly watched the lovely older woman kneel and briefly whisper something too softly to be heard. Then just as simply, Florence Taggert turned and left the chapel.
"You can bet that Taggert doesn't know anything about his mother coming here," Carly murmured, "or he would be here making a scene and disrespecting you."
Sonny gave his wife's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, well he's not here and I don't want to think about Taggert today. Okay?"
"Okay."
