Page 32 of Just for Tonight

‘The boys’ are my cousins, Kade and Nick, hardly kids anymore. Kade is my age.

“Nothing,” I admit, flipping to the copy of the will buried on the desk. “They aren’t even mentioned. He left you a family Bible, a photograph album and copies of the family trees.”

She makes a sound of disgust. “The ones he wouldn’t copy for me when he was alive.”

“Probably the same ones.”

“But nothing for the boys?”

“To be honest, Aunt Grace, there might not be much for anyone.”

“What?”

“He appears to have been deep in debt. Very deep.”

“That tart,” Grace growls. “She spent all his money, just like I warned him she would. Oh, she was never any good, but he wouldn’t listen to sense. How can anyone be so stubborn?”

I leave that one alone. If memory serves, Aunt Grace can be every bit as stubborn as my father was.

“And now,” Grace continues. “And now, she insists that your father can’t be buried beside Dianne. It’s not enough that she’s going to have him cremated, but she’s going to keep him from his place in that shared plot, the one by the cedars. How dare she insist that he be buried somewhere where she can be beside him, instead of his wife and the mother of his children?”

This is a diplomatic disaster and one I really don’t want to adjudicate. I certainly am surprised to find myself defending Candace. “Well, she was his wife, too, and they had two kids together.”

“It’s not the same, Jake, and you know it. It’s not right. I expect you to fix it. Your mother deserves better.”

With that, she ends the call.

I’m thinking that since my mom was trying to leave her marriage when she died, she might be good with my father having his eternal rest somewhere more distant.

It’s not two minutes before Candace knocks and marches through the door. (She must have been listening.) She halts into the middle of the room, a woman on a mission. “The hospital called. They want to know about the arrangements and where to send your father.” Her tone is adversarial, but she can’t hold a candle to Grace.

I assume she wants reassurance than the bill from the funeral home will be paid but before I can say so, she continues.

“I told them he has to come home.”

She says this as if she’s expecting an argument. Truth be told, I am a little worried about the decorative theme of the living room. There is no sarcophagus in there, yet.

Candace glares at me, taking my silence for dissent. “I’m having him cremated. It’s what he wanted, no matter what Grace says.”

“It was what he wanted,” I agree. “It’s in the will. I told her that.”

“Then you aren’t going to stop me?”

I know there are people who disagree with the practice of cremation, but I am not one of them. I hold up my hands. “Not me.” Aunt Grace can fight this battle on her own.

“And I don’t want a service now. I have to think about this. I have to grieve. I don’t want to talk to people about Patrick, not yet.” Her tears well and her mouth works.

I really hope she doesn’t cry.

“But if he’s cremated, there’s no deadline. You can plan a celebration of life whenever you want.”

She eyes me warily. “Why are you being nice about this?”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

“Grace didn’t think so. She was ready to fly out, and she planned to stay here.” Fire lights in Candace’s eyes. “With both of the boys.” She huffs. “Abbie expected there to be a funeral this week, too, but I can’t even think about that, not yet…”

“And that’s fair. It’s totally up to you, Candace.”