Excerpt from Everybody's Fool by Richard Russo, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Raymer would've been more than content to suffer on the periphery of today's proceedings, but he mistakenly made eye contact with the mayor, who, before he could look away, motioned for him to join the other dignitaries, which he reluctantly did. Yesterday, he'd tried his best to weasel out of this funeral, even going so far as to volunteer Charice, who was growing increasingly desperate to get away from the station house, to attend in his place. He'd explained to Gus that he not only had no particular affection for Barton Flatt but also counted him among the many banes of his existence. But the mayor was having none of it. The judge had been an important man, and Gus expected Raymer not just to attend but to be decked out in his dress blues, heat or no heat.

So here he was under the punishing, unseasonable sun, honoring a man who'd disdained him for the better part of two decades. Not that Raymer was alone in this. Disdain was His Honor's default mode, and he made no secret that he considered all human beings venal (a term Raymer had to look up) and feckless (another). If he disliked criminals, he was even less fond of lawyers and policemen, who in his opinion were supposed to know better. The very first time Raymer had been summoned to the judge's chambers, after accidentally discharging his weapon, the judge had fixed him with his trademark baleful stare for what had felt like an eternity before turning his attention to Ollie North, the chief back then. "You know my thoughts on arming morons," he told Ollie. "You arm one, you have to arm them all. Otherwise it's not even good sport." Over the years Raymer had had numerous opportunities to improve the man's low estimation of him but had managed only to worsen it.

But of course there was another reason Raymer had tried to weasel out of this. He hadn't been back to Hilldale since Becka's funeral, and he wasn't at all sure how he'd react to her proximity. He was pretty sure she was out of his system, but what if the shock and pain of her loss came flooding back and he broke down and started sobbing over the memory of a woman who'd made a complete fool of him? What if legitimate mourners witnessed his blubbering? Wouldn't his unmanly sorrow make a mockery of their more heartfelt grief?

"You're late," Gus said out of the corner of his mouth, when Raymer joined him.

Excerpted from Everybody's Fool by Richard Russo. Copyright © 2016 by Richard Russo. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.