“No one said there was ahardmeeting time,” I scoffed. “Ooh, yum,” I added as the waitress came over with my waffle and a side of hash browns. They smelled absolutely delicious, and my stomach grumbled, reminding me how many meals I skipped yesterday. (Three, all three.)
“Blessed nutritious breakfast sugar,” I said, starved, as the waitress left for another table.
Carver gave me a strange look from across the table. “That hungry?”
“They don’t have Waffle Houses up in New York,” I replied, digging my fork into the soft waffle, cutting off a piece so large I had to angle it to get it into my mouth. It was syrupy and sweet and soggy, just like I remembered.
Mom asked, “So how’s the bed-and-breakfast? I heard it was renovated after Nancy Riviera passed. Is it pretty?”
“Gorgeous,” I said between mouthfuls. “Dana did a great job.”
“Your father and I talked about spending the night there on our anniversary and...” Mom frowned into her almost-empty cup of tea. “Well, I guess that won’t be happening.”
Alice gave me a pointed look, as if it was my fault.
“Anyway,” Mom went on, “staying in hotelsalwaysgives me such sore muscles. You know, your roomisexactly as we left it. Well, with the exception of a sewing machine in the corner. And some paints. And some reclaimed furniture pieces I found on the side of the road—”
Alice interrupted, “She turned it into her art room.”
“It’s my crafting office,” she corrected nobly.
“That’s fine. I like the bed-and-breakfast.” I took another large bite of waffle. “So, what’s the family meeting this morning?”
Mom clapped her hands together. “Right! The schedule.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
Alice said, “There’s two funerals we have to get through first. Mr. Edmund McLemore and Jacey Davis.”
Carver shook his head. “I know no one else’ll point this out—but don’t you think it’s a bit insane that we have to do other people’s funerals when Dad’s dead? Can’t they get someone else?”
Alice gave him a tired look. “Who, exactly? There’s not another funeral home in town.”
“Then thenexttown? Asheville? Pop on the interstate and you’re there in no time. C’mon, Mom,” he said to our mom when he realized that he wasn’t gonna get Alice to budge, “you can’t honestly be expected to work right now.”
But Mom was having none of it. She waved her hand dismissively. “They want to be buried by a Day, and it’s an honor and a privilege to do so! I won’t send them somewhere else when we can give them the best ending.”
It was next to impossible to argue with Mom when she had hermind set. Much like Alice, she was immovable. Carver was the sensible one, but he also knew when it was a lost cause. He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath (that sounded suspiciously like “this is why we never went on vacation”), and I was left sopping up the syrup and asking, “Can I do anything to help?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think so,” Mom replied. “Besides, Alice has most of the funerals this week under control. I just have to be there to—to be there. Xavier would haunt me if I didn’t. Though I don’t think I can do all the heavy lifting.”
“I can do that,” Carver suggested. “I have some time accrued.”
I frowned down into my waffle. Business as usual, even though one of us was gone, and it was strange in the way thatThe Twilight Zonewas strange. As though, on the plane ride home, I’d fallen into a parallel dimension. Everything was off-kilter enough to be wonky. How everyone’s life was still running, still going, still pushing forward when Dad—
I fisted my hands. “But what about Dad’s funeral arrangements?”
“Aren’t they just so eccentric?” Mom sighed wistfully.
“Someone needs to do them, Mom.”
“Meaning us,” Carver guessed, and stirred his glass of water. “I’m afraid I can’t help all that much. I have a tech report due at the end of the week, and if I’m helping with the other funerals...”
“I won’t have time between the two services and the embalming processes,” Alice added, somewhat annoyed. “His requests are just—just so—soinane.”
“They’re what Dad asked for.”
“I know, but we don’t have the time, Florence.”