Page 6 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Not at all. In fact, Lily was utterly intrigued. ‘No, it’s lovely. What are you playing?’
‘Schumann. It sounds better on a piano, but, you know. The clients have expectations.’
Lily hummed a few bars of the ‘Funeral March’ through the grille.
‘Precisely,’ came Mort’s disembodied voice. ‘Are you … coming to the theatre tonight?’
‘Sure. Angela invited me. Apparently it’s the place to be, and the town’s most eligible bachelor is in charge of the music.’
A discordant few notes rang out through the grille as Mort fumbled the keys.
Lily straightened up in her chair. Had he fallen off his piano stool? Mort didn’t seem like the falling-off-things type – that was more Lily’s jam. (Lily’s friends had banned her from roller skating ever again after The Great Mangled Toe Incident.) ‘Everything okay?’
‘Just a work call.’
‘Ah. Death at the door, I see.’
‘Something like that.’ There came the sound of furniturescraping as Mort apparently hurried off to deal with the Grim Reaper. Lily wasn’t sure what the rush was: Mort was a funeral director, not a paramedic. Presumably he dealt with clients who had decisively tumbled off the mortal coil.
But maybe the whole mortuary sciences thing was like Lily’s work – big emotions and life-changing moments were at play, andeverythingbecame an emergency. Everything, like napkin colours and RSVP rates and table arrangements and trying to ignore her own fear of commitment.
Swivelling her chair around to face her desk, Lily pulled up the seating chart notes that Rina had sent her and set to work.
A few hours later, brain addled from the endless scandals of Rina’s family and the subsequent inability of anyone to sit together for fear of reprising said scandals, Lily shut her laptop. And not a moment too soon: Angela was texting to confirm she was coming to the evening’s showing ofVice Versa(the 1916 silent version, not the 1988 Fred Savage version, the realtor made sure to reiterate).
I’ll be there, she replied, adding a dancing emoji for good measure.
A moment, and then Angela responded with:Just arrive before sunset. Trust me.
Lily rummaged through her duffel for a suitable outfit. She hung up her more wrinkle-prone outfits as she went, throwing the other items on her bed until she had time to properly sort through her things. Like the shop, the upstairs apartment had come furnished, which meant she didn’t have to haul a box of flat-pack furniture up the stairs or go begging for a replacement for an Allen key that would inevitably disappear. Sure, the walls could use some paintings – or at least a mural – and she was definitely going to pop down some extra rugs and cushions (youcould never have too many), but Lily had lived in places with worse vibes. There was even a rocking chair that overlooked the meandering promenade – and a balcony bordered with dramatic flower baskets whose rainbow spoils spilled almost down to the ground outside.
As if called by Lily’s gaze, a beautiful black-and-white cat with a plaintive expression appeared on said balcony.
‘How’d you get there, kitty?’ Lily opened the patio door – which was trimmed with the most beautiful floral lead lights – letting in her new furry friend. The cat leapt primly onto the rocking chair, then regarded Lily with what her mom had always calledhungry eyes. Well-fed pets always had the expectation of more food.
She opened the narrow pantry next to her fridge. Aha, a Leaning Tower of Pisa lovingly crafted from tins of cat food. So this kitty was a known visitor.
Lily cracked open the can. As the cat daintily fed, a gleaming crystal bauble dangling from its collar caught the light. Tiny rainbows spangled the air.
‘Pretty,’ said Lily, approvingly. ‘What’s your name?’
She bent to reach for the tag that sat behind the bauble:Esmeralda. A fitting name for a kitty with such hypnotic eyes – one blue and one brown.
‘I hope you don’t mind watching me get ready,’ Lily told Esmeralda as she considered a taffeta dress she’d picked up from a thrift store back in La Jolla. It was a creamy colour that felt a bit too bridal for a movie outing, and given the whole new-wedding-planner-in-town thing, she didn’t want to give off Miss Havisham vibes. Maybe she could dye it purple. Did she have time?
There was always time to look fabulous.
She popped a few dashes of dye into a water-filled bucketand swished the dress around in it until the cream fabric had turned the rich purple of a moonlit night. Then she pulled out the dress, wringing the excess water from it, and threw it into the ancient dryer that lived in a cupboard in the bathroom.
While it bumped and spun around, the dye setting, Lily carefully applied her makeup and pinned up her hair. The very second she’d popped in a pair of moon-shaped amethyst earrings, the dryer buzzed.
Esmeralda purred, impressed.
‘I’m really good at time management,’ explained Lily to the fluffy cat. ‘There’s a reason I got promoted from perpetual bridesmaid to perpetual wedding planner. Well, my excellent time management skills and the whole being perennially single thing.’
Esmeralda made a noise that was either pitying or in solidarity – Lily wasn’t quite sure which.
‘Are you all right to stay here, friend?’ Lily cracked open the window for the cat. ‘Here, just in case you need to go out and about.’
