Sheepishly, her father held up a colorful patchwork quilt and a large briefcase-style contraption made of wicker that Luce had never seen before. Usually, when they picnicked, it was a much more casual affair, with paper grocery bags and an old ripped sheet thrown down on the grass by the canoe trail outside their house.

"Pickled okra?" Luce asked in a voice that sounded very much like little-kid Luce. No one could say her parents weren't trying.

Her dad nodded. "And sweet tea, and biscuits with white gravy. Cheddar grits with extra jalapenos, just the way you like 'em." (13.18-20)

Luce wanted to give Penn a moment alone with her dad, so she got, took a step back, and turned away, heading down the slope toward the heart of the cemetery. (13.115)

Her eyes were still a little glassy, but she thought she could see someone sitting alone on top of the monolith. Yes. A guy with his arms wrapped around his knees. She couldn't imagine how he had gotten up there, but there he was.

He looked stiff and lonely, as if he'd been there all day... After such an emotional day with her own parents, the thought nearly brought Luce to her knees with sadness. Daniel was alone in the world. (13.116-118)