"And is there a coffin to bury him in?" I asked. The four of them looked at me with blank expressions on their faces. "A box to bury him in. Do you ha...e one?" I asked again."No, my Lord! But there is a woodworker in Barrigone who could make one, or who may even have one ready made, as people die all of the time," the Castellan told me."All right!" I answered, as I rearranged my thoughts. I could see that this would take longer than I had planned on, and Sunshine was already anxious to leave. I. Pretty lady wants to flag me, it’s definitely not a problem. I looked at her and she asked me if I was okay. Her voice had a slight trace of a French accent in it. I smiled, and asked her if she was Haitian. The young lady smiled, and asked me how I knew. I smiled and shrugged, then introduced myself. Clarence Pierre Romans. Proud Bostonian. As Haitian-American as rice and beans dipped in burrito sauce. She shook my hand, smiled and introduced herself. Wendy Saint-Mathieu. Born in the City of. More

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