by Amber Crewes
Lucky shuddered. “I can’t,” he gasped. “I am deathly allergic to nuts. If I were to eat a crumb of that bread, I would drop dead right here on the floor.”
Karen’s eyes widened. “I’ll get this out of the way,” she sputtered as she moved the plate away from Lucky’s face.
“Did I hear that you are looking for someone to taste test?” Mrs. Sheridan squawked from her table in the corner of the dining room. “Frank and I would love some free treats. We aren’t allergic to nuts, Karen!”
Karen looked at Meghan. “Should I give it to them?”
“Just this once,” she nodded as Mrs. Sheridan and Frank hobbled over.
“That bread looks delightful,” Mrs. Sheridan cooed as she took the plate from Karen and gave it a long, dramatic sniff.
“It sure looks better than the food I usually eat,” Lucky sighed.
Mrs. Sheridan wrinkled her nose at Lucky’s shabby appearance. “Who are you? What do you usually eat? What are you doing in Sandy Bay? I’ve never seen you here before.”
Lucky smiled weakly. “I’m not exactly a stranger here,” he admitted. “But it’s been awhile since I’ve been in town. I’m Lucky. I’m a traveling circus performer.”
“A circus performer?” Frank repeated in delight. “That sounds grand!”
“It has its moments,” Lucky agreed. “I’m usually on the road performing as a clown for circuses or private events. It’s fun, but it can be draining.”
Mrs. Sheridan eyed Lucky skeptically. “You look so familiar to me,” she murmured.
Lucky looked down at his oversized green boots. He cleared his throat. Meghan could sense the tension building again, and she decided to change the subject. “Lucky, where is the most exciting place you’ve traveled in your work?”
Lucky’s wrinkled face lit up in delight. “Well, that’s a mighty fun question to answer,” he chuckled. “The deserts of Morocco were beautiful! I rode a camel just outside of Tangier and nearly broke my back when he decided to throw me.”
“A camel?” Mrs. Sheridan squealed. “What a filthy animal.”
“It was an adventure,” he replied. “I loved the jungles of Thailand. Twenty-three years ago, I got hired on with a traveling circus in Asia. The company performed in Chiang Mai, and we were a huge hit. The king of Thailand himself came up north just for the event, and we were treated like celebrities.”
Meghan grinned. She dreamed of traveling the world, and she loved listening to anyone who had a good travel story. “Have you been to Europe?”
Lucky laughed good-naturedly. “Of course,” he responded. “My favorite place is in Italy. Have you ever heard of Sicily?”
“I have.”
The group turned to see Mr. Cazale, the local funeral director, standing near the doors. Everyone had been so entranced by Lucky’s stories that they had not heard him come in.
“I was born in Sicily,” Mr. Cazale told Lucky. “Have you been?”
“I have,” Lucky told him. “It’s a beautiful place. I had the good fortune of spending a summer there when I was twenty-six. It was the best summer of my life.”
Mr. Cazale smiled, his dark eyes glimmering with joy at the mention of his birthplace. “I haven’t met many people in Sandy Bay who have been,” he said to Lucky. “What a delight to meet you, Mr…?”
“I’m Lucky,” he answered, sticking out his hand. “I’m here in town for awhile. I was most recently working in Vegas, but it’s a slow season. I wanted some time here at home.”
“Home?” Mrs. Sheridan repeated. “But I’ve never seen you before.”
Meghan noticed the melancholy look on Lucky’s face. “Are you from here originally?” she asked him.
Before Lucky could answer, Mr. Cazale wrapped an arm around him. “I have a proposal for you,” he said suddenly as the group stared. “Can you come down the street to my business? Trust me, it will be worth your while.”
Lucky sighed. “I don’t have anything better to do,” he admitted as he rose to his feet. He took off his yellow straw hat and bowed to the group. “It was nice meeting you all,” he said as he followed Mr. Cazale out the door.
Meghan raised an eyebrow. “That was strange,” she said as Mrs. Sheridan frowned.
“That man looks so familiar,” Mrs. Sheridan fussed as she bit her lip. “Where have I seen him before?”
“I don’t know,” Meghan said. “But I want to know what on earth a funeral director wants with a traveling clown? What kind of proposal did Mr. Cazale make?”
“Who knows.”
Everyone turned to see Pamela storm back into the room.
“Pamela!” Meghan exclaimed. “What was that all about? Who is that man?”
Pamela glared. “That man is the worst thing to walk through your door in a long time, Meghan,” she replied. “Stay away from him. If he’s anything like I remember, he’s up to no good.”
3
T he next afternoon, Meghan took Pamela shopping for fruit at the market. Pamela had abruptly left the bakery after Lucky’s appearance, and Meghan wanted to find out why her young employee had been so distraught. Pamela had agreed to the shopping trip, and as they wandered the stalls, Meghan wondered how to approach the situation.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I was so upset yesterday,” Pamela said as she looked down at her shoes.
Meghan, relieved that she did not have to initiate the conversation, nodded earnestly. “You rarely lose your cool,” she said as Pamela’s eyes filled with tears. “I was worried about you.”
“It’s a long story,” she shrugged.
“That’s okay,” Meghan coaxed. “I’m here for you no matter what. You can tell me as little or as much as you would like.”
“Thanks, Meghan,” she smiled. “You’re the best. I know I can always count on you.”
Meghan wrapped her arm around Pamela’s bony shoulder as they strolled through the market. Pamela sighed. “It all started around twenty-two years ago,” she said.
Meghan laughed. “You weren’t even alive twenty-two years ago,” she exclaimed as Pamela bit her lip.
“It didn’t start with me,” she explained. “It started with my Aunt Mia. She was born and raised in Sandy Bay.”
“Have I met her?” Meghan asked. “I don’t know if I’ve heard of anyone named Mia.”
Pamela nodded. “You’ve probably seen her around,” she told Meghan. “Aunt Mia has a fruit stand here at the market. On her days off, she performs as a juggler on the town square.”
“Oh, her!”
“Yes, that is my aunt,” she declared proudly. “She is the kindest person in my family. Last year, when my mom and I were fighting, Aunt Mia let me stay at her house for two weeks. She made all of my favorite foods, took me to the movies, and even let me stay out past my curfew.”
Meghan smiled. “So what does this fabulous Aunt Mia have to do with Lucky?”
Pamela’s face darkened. “Lucky is my Aunt Mia’s husband. He’s my uncle.”
“Your uncle?”
“Yes,” Pamela affirmed as they rounded a corner and came across an empty stall. She pointed at it. “Oh, see, Meghan? This is my aunt’s stall. She specializes in citrus; she has the best lemons and oranges imported from Uruguay. She’s an expert.”
“I might just have to call her up when I need help with my lemon tarts,” Meghan replied.
“Yes, she would love that,” she agreed. “Anyway, many years ago, Lucky had a thriving business in town. When it failed, he took up clowning and entertaining. He left my aunt with a load of his debts, and he traveled all over the world performing. My aunt was devastated; she adored her husband, and he broke her heart.”
“Did she ever remarry?” Meghan asked.
Pamela shook her head. “They’re still technically married,” she said. “Lucky comes and goes as he pleases. It drives my dad insane. He can’t stand to see his sister letting some scoundrel in and out of her house at his convenience. Every time Lucky comes back to town, he an
d my aunt hole up for days. And then, he leaves again, and she is sad all over again.”
Meghan shook her head. “That’s terrible. How hard that must be on your family.”
“It is,” she agreed. “My parents get so frustrated by Lucky’s antics. They wish he would just divorce Mia and let her get on with her life instead of stringing her along.”
“That does sound frustrating,” Meghan said as she filled her shopping basket with a package of bright red strawberries from a nearby stand. “So that explains why you were so upset when Lucky came into the bakery.”
“He’s really made things difficult for my family. My parents fight with Aunt Mia about him, and it makes it stressful for everyone,” she sighed. “And now, he’s here to worm his way into another part of my life. I can’t believe he’s going to work for Mr. Cazale.”
“He’s really going to work for Mr. Cazale? What does a clown have to do with a funeral?” Meghan asked in confusion.
Pamela frowned. “I’m not supposed to mention this to anyone,” she said cautiously. “But I can trust you. Roberto told me that his father is going to hire Lucky to perform at some upcoming funerals.”
“Perform?” Meghan cried in horror. “At a funeral?”
Pamela nodded. “Roberto’s dad is trying to increase the number of services he can offer to mourners,” she explained, her brow furrowed. “Lucky’s even doing a test run of these shows for a funeral this Friday.”
Meghan’s dark eyes widened. “I don’t want to sound judgmental,” she began. “But I don’t understand. Why would anyone think it was appropriate to have a clown at a funeral?”
Pamela shrugged. “Mr. Cazale has been trying to think outside the box lately when it comes to his business, and I think Lucky sweet-talked him into something that will be terribly received in town.”
Meghan bit her lip. “That is one of the strangest things I’ve ever heard. Funerals are supposed to be solemn and reflective, not loud and silly. Has Mr. Cazale really given this a lot of thought?”
“I guess so,” she said. “Roberto tried to talk him out of it, but he’s pretty set on making it happen.”
The two ladies finished their shopping and wandered outside. It was another beautiful day in Sandy Bay. Meghan could hear the crash of the Pacific Ocean, and the sound always put her heart at ease. She enjoyed living close to the beach; in Los Angeles, the beach was nearly an hour by car with all the traffic, and back in Texas, the ocean was hours away.
“Look over there,” Pamela said as she pointed to the town square. “My Aunt Mia is juggling on the square.”
Meghan squinted. She could see Mia in the distance, a classically beautiful, petite brunette woman in a puffy red skirt and a matching puff sleeved top. “She’s so cute,” she said as Pamela waved. “I expected her to be older. She looks to be my age.”
“She’s a little older than you,” Pamela informed her. “She’s way younger than my dad, though. She is one amazing woman. Aunt Mia has so much energy and spunk. It’s such a bummer that she let’s stupid Lucky back into her life time after time.”
Meghan could sense the hurt in Pamela’s voice, and she reached over and took Pamela’s small hand in hers, giving it a firm squeeze. “Families can be difficult,” she whispered to Pamela. “And people don’t always choose the right people for themselves. All we can do is love them anyway.”
Pamela wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms across her chest. “I just think it’s silly when people let others mistreat them,” she declared. “I bet you’ve never had a boyfriend who walked all over you, Meghan.”
Meghan laughed. “Oh, Pamela,” she giggled good-naturedly. “I think every woman has had her turn dating a jerk. In fact, I had a terrible boyfriend right after college. He was brilliant and worldly, and he had stunning dark eyes that I couldn’t stop staring into.”
“What was the problem?” she asked. “Dark eyes and a big brain sound like good qualities to me.”
Meghan cocked her head to the side. “A handsome face and a lot of knowledge don’t make up for a terrible personality,” she told Pamela. “There were a lot of good things about him, but he didn’t treat me very well. He liked to make me feel stupid and worthless. For some reason, it seemed to please him when I felt down.”
“That’s awful,” Pamela replied. “Why would you stay with someone like that?”
“It can be hard to walk away from a complex relationship,” she told her young employee as they watched Mia juggle a handful of limes. “And it can also be easy to judge others as they navigate tricky relationships. Give your aunt some grace, my dear. She is probably doing the best she can.”
Before Pamela could respond, Meghan’s phone rang. She looked down at the silver screen and raised an eyebrow. “Well, speak of the devil,” she muttered.
“It’s Lucky?”
“No,” Meghan shook her head. “It’s Mr. Cazale.”
4
“T
hank you for coming over,” Mr. Cazale greeted Meghan as he welcomed her into the foyer of the funeral home. “It’s too big of an opportunity to discuss on the telephone.”
“An opportunity?” Meghan asked.
“You won’t believe it when I tell you,” he told her, his dark eyes gleaming. He gestured for Meghan to follow him down the long, dark hallway. “We’ll discuss it in the parlor.”
He tapped on a long grey couch in the parlor and Meghan sat down. “So, what is this opportunity?”
Mr. Cazale grinned. “I will be throwing the most dazzling, spectacular funeral anyone in this town has ever seen!”
Meghan leaned back uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what exactly you mean, Mr. Cazale…”
He clasped his hands in front of his heart. “I received a call early in the week from an agent in Silicon Valley,” he began. “The father of some California technology hot-shot passed away, and he wanted to have his funeral service conducted in Sandy Bay. Apparently, his parents were residents of this town many years ago, and the guy wanted the connection to his past represented in his father’s funeral service.”
Meghan nervously twirled a loose dark lock around her fingers. “So you’re putting on the service?”
“Exactly,” he confirmed. “But get this, Meghan: this guy wanted his father’s last event to be a party. We’re talking entertainers, dancers, live music, decorations, the works! This won’t be your typical somber, sad funeral, Meghan. We are going to make this the biggest event of the year.”
“So, what does this have to do with me?” she asked politely, feeling very uncomfortable at the prospect of making a funeral into a party.
“The man left specific instructions regarding the catering for the events,” he explained. “The agent gave me a list of demands that his client, the deceased’s son, has left. He wants to ensure that the guests will enjoy themselves, and that includes a full menu of delicious foods and treats.”
“Oh…” she whispered.
“We’ve done business together before, Meghan,” Mr. Cazale said kindly. “And I appreciate that you’ve let my son work some shifts at your bakery. Before I reached out to anyone else, I wanted to ask if you would be interested in partnering with me for this event. Do you want to be the official caterer for this funeral?”
Meghan shifted awkwardly on the couch. “I’m not sure,” she admitted as Mr. Cazale’s face fell. “I have a lot of orders at the bakery right now, and with Trudy out of town, I don’t know if I can handle a major event. Besides, to be completely transparent, I’m not sure how I feel about throwing a party in place of a proper funeral.”
Mr. Cazale raised an eyebrow. “Meghan, what’s your heritage? Do you have any Irish in your blood?”
“From what I know from my grandmother, we are Dutch on my father’s side and French on my mother’s side,” Meghan replied. “We have some German and North African DNA in our blood as well, but only small traces. Why?”
“Have you ever heard of an Irish wake?”
Meghan shook
her head. “No? Does that have to do with their morning routines or something?”
Mr. Cazale laughed. “Not at all. An Irish wake occurs when someone has died. It’s similar to a funeral, but often, there is music, story-telling, and celebration. Think of this funeral as an Irish wake. There will be music and celebration, and like the Irish, we will do our best to ensure our guests have a good time.”
Meghan wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know…”
Mr. Cazale’s smiled vanished. “It isn’t our place to judge,” he told Meghan. “If this is what the client wants…”
Meghan flashed back to her earlier conversation with Pamela. She had urged Pamela not to judge her aunt, and now, she was receiving the same message from Mr. Cazale. “What price point are you looking at?” she asked curiously.
