by Kim Linwood
Zoe swipes an arm over her forehead, pushing away a strand of bottle black hair that’s escaped from her bandana. “It’s just that you’re so… naive when it comes to men.”
I roll my eyes, all three of them. Then I realize what I’m doing and shudder, carefully pointing the iris of the glass eye away. “I actually think you’d like him. He’s super hot. Tall, well-tailored suit, great eyes and generous. When he found out we needed the same flowers, he volunteered to let me have them.”
“Oh. Maria set you up.” Zoe nods as if everything finally makes sense. “Then he’s probably all right. She has good instincts.”
“Hey! I could’ve landed this date on my own. Sexy executive types fall for me all the time, I’ll have you know.” Does nobody believe I can handle my own love life?
Zoe pulls out a needle and thread. “Sadiekins, you know I love you dearly, but you need all the help you can get.”
“Oh, come on!”
“What? Do you know what he does for a living? His dating history? How much he makes?”
“Finding out stuff like that is sort of the whole reason to go on the date in the first place.”
She snorts. “Google exists for a reason, and it isn’t just kitten videos and porn! You usually go for quiet, geeky types that’ve been nosing around you so long you already know everything but their blood type. I mean, how promising was he in the package department? The suit couldn’t have been that well cut if you don’t at least have a pretty good idea… unless he wears tighty whities…” Zoe’s voice trails off as she considers it. “Which honestly is sort of something you should know anyway.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” But now that she mentions it, I do wish I’d given him a more thorough glance. Lower down, I mean, because I sure looked at him plenty.
“See? Naive!” Zoe jabs the needle in my direction, tugging slightly on Mr. Keller.
I turn around, swallowing hard. “You should put some of your clearly amazing romantic skills to work finding your own boyfriend.”
“I could, but you know how it is. It’s all fun and games until the screaming starts. Either they find out what I do and run for their lives, or they get that look in their eyes like they’re wondering if I’ve ever done it in a morgue.”
“You have,” I point out dryly.
“Not the point. There’s a big difference between getting caught up in the moment and having a death fetish. Those people are just weird. Which is why I date vicariously through you, so don’t let me down. We’re on a bit of a dry streak.”
My phone rings, saving me from my overly attached friend. Zoe stretches out her hand, and I carefully drop the eye into her palm. It stares back at me accusingly, but I take enough crap about my personal life from the living people in my life. I don’t need it from the dead ones.
I pull off my gloves and check the display on the way upstairs. It’s Dad. “Williams Funeral Home and Crematorium. You kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.”
He chuckles on the other end, always happy to share in a little graveyard humor. If any family is entitled to it, I’d say we are. “Hey there, baby girl. How’s the death business treating you today?”
“Not too bad. The lights are still on,” I joke. Mostly.
We aren’t in trouble, but we aren’t rolling in profits, either. The market has tightened up a lot in the past couple years and Mom and Dad taking off on their big anniversary trip took a chunk out of our personal funds.
“Glad to hear it, kiddo. Are you free for a sec? We need to talk.”
“Um… sure.” I go into my office, a little worried about those ominous four words.
“First, guess where I’m calling from.” He sounds excited, so the answer probably isn’t Walmart or a gas station.
“The inside of a Russian prison?” I throw out, deciding to start high and work my way down.
Dad laughs. “So close.”
“Ukrainian prison?”
“Okay, maybe not quite that close. How does Florida sound to you?”
“Like you’d get better food and the inmates play more golf.”
He barrels on like I didn’t even respond. “Right now, at this very moment, your mother and I are enjoying retired life from inside our very own, brand spanking new RV as it cruises past the Everglades.”
My brain explodes for just a second. “Your new RV? How could we afford that? Wait, and retired? No no no. You guys are on vacation. Vacation means you have to come back!”
“Yeah… about that.”
My stomach drops faster than it did when I was holding the eye. “Dad? What have you done? What about the business? I’m having fun running the place while you’re gone, but I’m not sure I’m ready to do it full time.”
In the background, Mom yells, “Just spit it out already.”
Dad sighs. “I didn’t want to mention it before we left, but Graves Funeral Homes has put in a very generous offer. We weren’t going to take it, of course, but then once Mom and I hit the road, we talked. It really is perfect timing. So we called them back.”
A thick moment of silence hangs between us, crowding the line until I shatter it by shrieking into the phone, “You sold us out to a chain without even talking to me about it?”
“You never seemed particularly interested in taking the reins, honey.”
“Well, yeah, but…” I always assumed I would. Eventually. Hundreds of years in the future.
“Has that changed?”
“No, well, yes, sort of… I don’t know.”
“Look, between the money they offered and what we’ve already saved up, your mom and I can afford to retire. Once the sale goes through, you’ll have enough to get a head start on whatever it is you want to do. You could go even go back to school and study painting. That’s what you always talked about, right?”
Yeah… when I was like, sixteen. Before I realized there were bills and I was going to have to pay them. I wish we were on a video call so I could glare at him, because it’s not the same if he can’t see me. “You couldn’t wait to talk about this face to face? I love you guys, but really? Over the phone?”
Dad coughs uncomfortably. “Things moved quickly, and well, your mother and I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.”
“Yeah, this is so much better. What about Zoe and everyone else? Are we all out of jobs now?” The idea of anyone else down in Zoe’s Cave—it has its own sign and everything—just feels wrong. And sure, I’ve grumbled and talked about going back to college or whatever, but for the most part I’m happy. I like my life the way it is. Working here has taken on a whole new dimension now that I’m in temporarily in charge. Keyword, temporarily.
“Of course not. The offer includes a year of guaranteed employment for anyone who wants to stay on. Including you. We might not be as big as they are, but we run a good business and they know it. I think once you have time to think about it, you’ll agree that it’s for the best.”
“For whose best? How much did that RV cost, anyway?”
“That’s neither here nor there,” he dodges. “But while I have you on the line, I need to ask a favor.”
“Burn everything down for the insurance money?” I mumble.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“All right, well, I emailed you the paperwork before I called. Read it over, because Graves is sending someone over tomorrow to get everything in place. It would be great if you could get it all taken care of as soon as possible.”
“What if I don’t like the contract? What if I don’t sign?”
“I’m sure it’s all in order, honey.”
“Just answer the question, Daddy. This isn’t just about you guys. It’s about me, Zoe, Frank, Arthur, even Kenny.”
“Who?”
“The kid we hired for the summer, remember? Kenny?” It suddenly becomes clear to me that Dad’s been pulling away for a while and I just wasn’t paying attention. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for him to sell. He’s not invested any
more. “Look, if you’re both retiring, that makes me acting manager. I want veto rights. When I go into that meeting, I want to be able to negotiate for a better deal or scrap the whole thing if I don’t like it.”
“Why are you making such a big fuss about this? You’ve never mentioned being interested in running the show.”
“Yes or no?” I never knew how much this place meant to me until I was threatened with losing it. Maybe I’ll see the contracts tomorrow and decide he’s right, but I’m not going to hand everything over blindly.
Dad laughs instead of going ballistic like I’m half expecting. “Fine. Go in there and put those business classes to use. I suppose I can always trade your mother for gas if things get desperate and the sale falls through.”
“Pete!” I hear Mom yell, followed by honking.
Ugh. Parents.
“Enjoy Florida, Dad. I’ll let you know later if you can afford it or not.”
“I have to admit, it’s nice to see you take an interest in the business.”
“Well, I’m kinda all grown up now and this is my job.” Even if I’m the only one who sees it, apparently.
“I suppose you are. Call me after the meeting to let me know how it went.”
“Will do.”
“Love you. Oh, and Mom says her too.”
I sigh. It really is going to be a long day. “I love you guys too.”
3
Carter
“So, funeral boutiques rather than funeral homes?” I quirk an eyebrow at my grandmother skeptically.
It’s a hot one out today, the sun beating down on the Coyote Creek ski lodge. There isn’t a snowflake in sight, but through the magical combination of money and connections, Grandma’s living the resort life 365 days a year. Some retirees get themselves a permanent cruise ship cabin—Grandma got herself a ski lodge apartment. Never mind that her hips haven’t been up to tackling the moguls for a long time.
The buzz of crickets is a constant background hum, even though the windows of the sun porch are shut to keep the AC in. She’s stretched out on the sofa next to me, both of us watching birds and squirrels doing their thing in the branches of the huge oak behind her unit.
“Don’t be flippant. I’m not talking about gift shops. I’m talking about a personal touch. When your grandfather started back in the seventies, mass market everything was the rage. He did well with it, and your father has picked up the reins admirably, but our homes have so little character and times are changing. These days, everyone wants a more personal experience. We don’t buy our coffee black anymore, it’s a skinny quad latte with a shot of vanilla. Back then you were part of a modern social movement by buying at the mass market stores, but now that’s so passé.” She snorts. “If Martin doesn’t watch it, he’ll find himself running the fast food chain of funeral homes. Those modern hippies wouldn’t be caught dead in a funeral chain. Literally.”
My own latte nearly goes down the wrong tube. “Do you mean hipsters?”
“That’s what I said, dear.” She pats my hand.
Grandma might be closing in on ninety, but she’s still sharp as a tack and not afraid of speaking her mind. She’s a woman made of iron, and it’s only an onset of weak joints and bones that convinced her to slow down and move into this suite rather than stay in her big old house.
Every time I’m up here in the Wittville area, I make a point of visiting her. Usually that’s the only reason I have to come to a tiny town like this in the first place. Aside from the resort, what is there to do here? Paddleboat? I suppose if this works out, I might be finding out.
“I’m going to guess you’ve already spoken with Dad about this, and he didn’t come up with the idea of buying the Williams parlor totally on his own.” I knew she’d been encouraging me to get more involved in the business, but I didn’t realize she was pulling quite so many strings.
She chuckles softly. “We might’ve had a chat last month. To be fair, I didn’t say anything he wasn’t already thinking. As much as your father is my son, he’s headstrong enough to ignore his mother if he doesn’t agree.” With a sly look, she tacks on, “That little shit.”
“Grandma!”
We laugh together. The undisputed matriarch of the family, she loves all her grandkids, but the two of us have always gotten along especially well.
“Darling, I’m eighty-seven years old and I’ve been his mother for sixty-one of them. If anyone’s earned the right to call him that, it’s me.”
I shrug. “And I wouldn’t dare to argue with you about it.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Watch it, squirt. You’re my favorite for now, but that could change at the turn of a dime. One too many smart-alecky comments from you and I’m changing my will.”
“Be honest. It’s all going to Aunt Liz and the pool boy, isn’t it?”
“You know me so well, my dear.” Grandma grins.
“Do either of you want coffee? I’ve just finished brewing a pot.” Speak of the devil. Elizabeth Mitchell, or Aunt Liz to us grandkids if we know what’s good for us, pokes her head out the door to the sun porch. Fifteen years Grandma’s junior, she’s been her close companion for as long as any of us remember, and her roommate for the last five years or so.
Dad insists they’re best friends, though the rest of us are pretty sure he just doesn’t want to think about why there’s only one bedroom. Aunt Liz is an avid skier, and I strongly suspect that had a lot to do with their apartment choice. No matter what their situation is, we’re all happy that Grandma has someone, because she was devastated after Grandpa died.
“Thank you, dear. Just black, as usual.”
Aunt Liz nods, obviously expecting nothing else. “How about you, Carter?”
“No thanks, I’m good with my skinny quad latte with a shot of vanilla.”
Grandma snorts and gives my hand a smack while Aunt Liz blinks in confusion. “Don’t make me throw you out, young man. You can smart-aleck me, but leave poor Liz alone.”
“Black, thank you,” I smile, putting aside my ten dollar, cold pressed espresso for the sake of family.
Aunt Liz glances bemusedly between the two of us, then shakes her head in mock exasperation. When she’s gone, Grandma laughs softly. “There’s too much of me in you. You’d better watch it. No wonder the girls don’t stick around. Isn’t it about time you settled down?”
“Oh, come on. I’m only twenty-six. Besides, it’s not like Axton or Brandon are married yet either, and they’re both older.”
“But they’re not you, and I’ve taken a special interest in you.” The look she gives me is like a hawk tracking a chicken, preparing to strike.
“The girls like me just fine. In fact, I’ve got plans tomorrow night.”
Her perfectly penciled eyebrow raises skeptically. “Oh? Did you bring someone on your little trip? Is this serious?”
My thoughts flash back to the feisty brunette at the florist, and I can’t help but laugh. “No, and probably not, but I don’t know much about her yet. I was in Wittville checking out the local suppliers,” I nod towards the vase with the bouquet I brought, “And happened to meet someone.”
“Not Maria’s granddaughter? Josefina? Such a pretty girl.”
“No, her name was Sadie and she was just a customer.” Thank God, the last thing I need is for my Grandmother to convince Aunt Liz they should take a drive to spy on my love life. “I wanted to throw a few complicated arrangements at the shop to see how they handled them.”
Grandma sits up as Aunt Liz returns with steaming mugs of coffee. I thank her and they share a smile before Aunt Liz leaves us to finish our chat.
“So,” Grandma starts. “Tell me more. I need information to decide whether this girl is good enough for my grandson.”
“Well, there’s not that much to tell, not yet anyway. The stock was low and Sadie seemed worried about her arrangements, so I offered to wait a little longer on my orders.”
“That was nice of you, dear.”
“In ex
change for a date, of course.”
She laughs. “I should’ve known. Always the dealer. So in other words, you blackmailed an innocent young woman into entertaining your sorry behind for the evening.”
“Would I do that?” I ask with a wounded expression. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen the look she was giving me over the lilies. I couldn’t leave her disappointed. It was practically charity!”
Grandma looks at me over the rim of her mug until I crack.
“Oh, fine. She happens to be a very attractive woman and I happen to be in town for a couple days. It was fate.”
“Do you happen to have her phone number? I think I should give her a ring and warn her about what she’s gotten herself into with you, young man.”
“I’m pretty sure Sadie’s a big girl. She can handle herself.” I remember the flash in her eyes. Definitely no pushover, otherwise I doubt I would’ve given her a second thought.
“Well, I hope you have fun, then. Who knows, maybe if our plans for the new parlor work out you’ll be around for a second date. Wouldn’t that be nice? I’m sure a local girl would be much better for you than anyone you’d find in Philadelphia.”
I glance at my watch. Almost afternoon. “Speaking of which, I have to leave in a few minutes to go dot the i’s and cross the t’s on our offer for the Williams place before the meeting tomorrow. Without that, there will be no new location in Wittville, boutique or otherwise. Maybe it will be a good opportunity, because I’ve actually been thinking…” I trail off, not quite sure I’m ready to tell anyone about my plans, vague as they are. My Grandmother’s idea about going in a more personalized direction isn’t bad at all, and with her share of the company behind me, Dad would probably even go along with it just to keep the peace.
“Thinking?” she prods.
“I’m getting tired of paperwork with no payoff. They send me in to negotiate contracts and shake hands, but I’m ready to settle down and actually dig my hands into the business. I’m looking to manage, starting here.”
“Managing? That’s a change of roles for you, no?”
