Page 92 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Lily, who’d arrived back home from her glamping expedition, checked to see whether Venus was around (no, she was already sipping gimlets in the sky) then immediately got Santa on a video call.
Santa, unfortunately, very much resembled the first emoji that he’d texted, right down to the shade of green. He could’ve played Elphaba inWicked.
Lily grimaced. Her ratio of successful to disaster weddings was skewing in the direction it absolutely shouldn’t. Maybe all of her achievements to date were mere beginner’s luck. Maybe Mom had been right about a small business being something that sucked the life out of you. (‘But worth it!’)
‘What do you mean, Santa’s sick?’ she asked, hoping thesheen covering his face was a filter. ‘What’s going on? Can I have Roddy DoorDash you some Pepto?’
Santa puffed his bearded cheeks in an expression that triggered Lily’s sympathetic retching response. She clapped a hand over her mouth. This was not good.
‘I bought some raw oysters from the side of the road, and now I’m a full-on bubble guts. Oh God, I’ve gotta …’
Santa dropped the phone, leaving Lily cringing to a soundtrack of hasty footsteps and—
She rang off. No need to subject her ears to that. She could extrapolate without being a witness.
But now what? How was she going to pull off a Christmas-themed wedding when the star of the show was getting up close and personal with the porcelain throne instead of the sleigh he’d promised?
Lily frowned, trying to think of the gents she knew who could pass as Santa. The Grief Guys were already on table duty, and Jorge and Roddy were both at work – Roddy had hurried by earlier with some birthday balloons, and Jorge was outside right now watering a flower basket. (Waving, she hurried out with a slice of cake for him.) Where were the potbellied, white-bearded dudes of the village when she needed them? And who would willingly suffer the indignity of dressing up in head-to-toe red velvet and donning a pom-pommed hat just because Lily asked?
Gentle piano notes sifted through the grille that separated the two Eternal Elegances.
Mort. Mort loved velvet. And she’d seen him sporting stubble a few times. Plus Lily had an excellent selection of wedding cake samples to share with him. And also, if it came to it, her body. How could he possibly say no?
‘No,’ said Mort immediately, taking in the Santa outfit drapedover Lily’s arm. ‘It is far too early in our relationship to reveal that you’re a furry.’
Relationship, hmm? So they were on the same page there (and also about furries, apparently). But that whole discussion would have to wait because procuring a Santa was the priority right now.
‘Please,’ begged Lily. ‘It’s an emergency. Santa’s stuck down a white porcelain chimney and the wedding is in an hour. And Iknowyour dead can wait. Pretty please with a pom-pom on top?’
She waggled the pom-pom on the Santa hat.
Mort sighed. ‘You can’t ask Gramps? He’s more Santa age-appropriate than I am.’
‘They specifically asked for a sexy Santa.’
Mort gave another sigh. This one was so deep that Lily worried he might be at risk of hypoxemia.
‘I do have a pretty grisly reconstruction job I’d rather avoid if at all possible. Not the toothpaste marketer – a bear mauling thing. And I kind of want to see how the whole seating situation turned out.’
‘That’s going to be the absolute highlight of the day.’
A third sigh, but this one a sigh of resignation. ‘All right. Santa me up.’
Lily clapped her hands together in joy. ‘You’re going to make a fab Santa. Just don’t eat any raw oysters before the reception.’
‘Noted. Let me go transform into everyone’s favourite home invader.’
Mort slid the formerly black (and now pink-streaked) pocket door to his office closed so he could change. Lily sat patiently in one of the plush chairs by the front door, flipping through the Eternal Elegance (Funeral Edition) guest book that lived on a coffee table that was for some reason decorated with a map of Ibiza. Was that new?
The guest book had been partially switcherooed: it was half-bound in black leather and crafted from stern off-white paper that guests had filled with morose notes about grief, loss, life after death and the occasional sad face or commentary on the thickness of the toilet paper provided in the funeral home’s bathrooms. But halfway through, the album started to take on a rainbow tinge, with fingers of pink and yellow peeking through the pages. Even the ribbon that marked the current page was imbued with a freshly vibrant tint: its black satin transitioned to pink lace hearts.
Lily smiled as she flicked through the pages in the latter half of the book. The handwriting had become less stilted and cramped, with guests writing freewheeling poems and missives and drawing little sketches in honour of their loved ones. Someone had even stuck googly eyes to a Polaroid depicting a (presumably) dead relative that they’d glued in. All right, so the switcheroo was not without its problems. Last week Pickleball Candice had locked herself in the library bathroom because she’d decided that the shelves were going to topple on her and squash her, and Derrick and Fran were on the rocks over the whole resurrection cult thing. And Lily had spoken with the local volunteer neighbourhood watch more times than seemed reasonable. (Fortunately the neighbourhood watch was mostly one old guy on a golf cart.) But it wasn’t all bad. Mort was coming out of his grumpy shell, and the village’s grieving populace seemed to have a healthier outlet for their grief. The Grief Guys even had a logo!
But what about after Lily’s lease was up? What then? What would happen with the switcheroo? With the business? With Mort? Would they take things long distance, like Lily’s friendship with Annika? Or would they take a leaf out of Reba’s book and just fondly remember what had been?
The thought of that made Lily’s heart ache. Because that was the basis of all grief, wasn’t it: being forced to close the book on something you weren’t ready to let go of.
The door to Mort’s office opened, breaking into Lily’s thoughts – and how! Cackling in delight, Lily dramatically clasped her hands over her heart.
