Page 37 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Lily cocked her head. ‘I thought the robust dandelion field was on purpose. A statement about rebirth or something.’
‘If everyone would stop dying, I’d have more spare time to help out with Gramps’s lawn. Come on.’
The porch steps sagged from decades of comings and goings, and Mort held out a bag-laden arm for Lily just in case she became a slip-and-fall statistic. Lily took him up on the offer with a grin, and Mort, who could feel his face flushing, was grateful that the porch light had blown. (He made a note to replace it once his flush had faded.)
Gramps opened the door before Mort even had a chance to knock. Thankfully – because Mort didn’t have much in the way of a free hand.
‘He’s so tiny,’ whispered Lily in delight. ‘Like a shrunk-down Uncle Fester.’
Fair, thought Mort: Gramps had always been diminutive, and his hair hadn’t been seen for years. His eyebrows, on the other hand, were another matter.
‘Oh, but it’s good to see you, Mort!’ Gramps wrapped Mort in one of his usual effusive hugs, which landed roughly at hipheight given the height difference. Grocery bags swung all over. ‘And who’s this? Your girl? Did you get a girl, Mort?’
Mort spluttered, although he should have anticipated this, honestly. Gramps had always shown untold interest in Mort’s private life – well, everyone’s private lives, really. You had to, when at any moment you might have to start helping a bereaved bang out an obituary to send to theMirage Daily Mirror. But though Mort had finally stepped up to the funeral home plate, there was still the question ofbeyondthat. Would the business stay in the family if there was no more family? The question had kept Mort up since he’d taken over running things. It wasn’t just people that could die – businesses, landmarks, legacies could, too.
Lily, sensing that Mort was off in his own world, stepped forward, giving Gramps a taste of his own medicine with a giant hug of her own. ‘I’m Lily. Mort has told meallabout you.’
‘Allabout me, huh?’ chuckled Gramps, looping his arm through Lily’s. ‘Did he tell you about the giant perch I caught when I went fishing with a shoelace by the lake as a joke? Ooh, and the sandcastle I made on the beach one day that was so good the locals thought it was made by Banksy?’
‘That never happened.’ Mort dropped the bags of groceries on the kitchen counters, which were made from black Formica rimmed with striped chrome. He eyed the single bowl and single spoon drying by the sink and felt a pang. When was the last time Gramps had had company that wasn’t Mort? ‘Lily has moved into the shop next door.’
‘A business called Eternal Elegance,’ said Lily. ‘Wedding Edition.’
‘Great name.’ The ancient floorboards creaked as Gramps led Mort and Lily into the living room, where his current jigsaw-puzzle-in-progress took up most of the massive coffee table in the middle of the room. (Gramps had been a jigsaw puzzlefiend for as long as Mort had known him.) ‘I love a business that dabbles in finality. Watch that missing floorboard there.’
Lily side-stepped it, then took a seat on one of the sprawling black chesterfield couches in the living room, laughing as she sank so far into it that Mort had to help her back out again. Once he’d rescued her, Mort perched on the opposite end of the couch. With the black-and-white photos of the funeral home through the ages surrounding him, he felt like he was back in high school, introducing Gramps to a date who’d inevitably ask to see the back of the hearse, beg to tour the downstairs preparation room at the funeral home, and then report back to their friends about what a freak Mort was.
Only now, things felt … sad. It was no longer Gramps watching Mort grow into his life. Now it was Mort watching Gramps wind down from his. He swallowed. He needed to call Angela about Whispering Waters. Or about a place that wasn’t a giant ramshackle home.
‘What are you working on here?’ Lily was trying to figure out the theme of the jigsaw puzzle.
‘The Spanish Steps in Rome. Glorious place, if you haven’t been. Near the Villa Medici and the Spanish Embassy.’ Gramps popped a piece into a section of the puzzle marked by pink and yellow planters, then headed over to a black rattan bar cart. He hefted a bottle of whiskey in Mort’s direction, a bottle of port in Lily’s, then as both nodded, poured a shot of each into twin cloudy tumblers. ‘The widow Nesbitt – Hyacinth, remember, Mort? She always brought you liquorice? – gave me my first jigsaw puzzle years back as thanks for the work I did on her husband’s funeral, and I got into the habit of puzzling. It got to the point that everyone would give me a puzzle when all was said and done.’
‘Wow,’ said Lily. ‘That’s really sweet. I get a lot of cake.’
‘Cake’s not a bad perk.’ Gramps recapped the whiskey bottle. ‘I put my heart and soul into that business, you know. Proudest day of my life when Mort agreed to take it over. I justknewhe’d do a brilliant job. Keep our five-star rating on that, what’s it called? Yowl? Yawp?’
Gramps passed Mort the whiskey, which Mort promptly downed. Yep, everything was going just fine. It was perfectly normal to have bouquets of hot pink zinnias delivered for a wake, or for mourners to call up asking about whether Mort had a DJ on his roster, or better yet, a live band. And the growing stack of Polaroid selfies taken with the deceased was nothing to worry about at all.
‘He’s doing a great job at it,’ agreed Lily.
‘Although I did hear you had an energetic one the other day.’
Mort felt like a deer in the headlights. As pressing as the issue was, he couldn’t bring himself to ask about the switcheroo. He couldn’t disappoint Gramps, not now. Gramps finally,finallyhad a chance to relax after all these years. He didn’t need to know about the strange spell that had bizarrely merged the two businesses. Not unless things got worse, anyway. And maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe it would all resolve itself. (Even so, Mort had been stocking up on mixed spices in an effort to try to help things along.)
‘Um, that was just … some overflow from …’ he began, shooting Lily aplease save melook.
‘One of my clients,’ said Lily quickly. ‘They get a bit frisky on the prosecco samples, and before you know it, they’re dancing down the street.’
Mort breathed a sigh of relief.
Gramps chuckled. ‘Ah, weddings. There’s a reason I stuck with funerals. No surprises. Isn’t that right, Mort?’
‘Absolutely.’ Mort set down his glass on a coaster. ‘So, howabout you two set to work on that jigsaw puzzle, and I’ll get your groceries put away. And I’ll deal with that porch light.’
‘Deal,’ said Lily. ‘Although I should warn you, Gramps, Ineverdo the edge pieces first.’
‘An agent of chaos, I see.’ Gramps grinned. ‘But you get to do the sky.’
