Page 8 of The Alpha Dire Wolf
Sylvie
Finding the funeral home was easy. Finding parking was not. Half the town had shown up by the looks of it. Cars filled the parking lot, and the streets were lined with them, forcing me to drive to the next block over to locate an empty spot. I could probably have found space in the funeral home’s lot if I wanted to, but the sun was shining, and a chance to stretch my legs and get some fresh air sounded like a wonderful idea with the day I was having.
The instant I was in sight of the funeral home, however, my neck started to tingle. Not a warning of danger, so I didn’t panic, but the prickles never faded. I was being watched. It was impossible to describe the feeling to someone who had never experienced it, but once you had, you knew it intimately.
Scanning the street and the cars around me, I tried to locate them, but to no avail. They were either hidden, or I wasn’t able to distinguish them from everyone else. The sidewalks had numerous people on them, all making their way to the funeral home.
My grandmother was more popular than I had assumed. I knew she was well-liked and respected, but this was a lot.
“Sylvie? Sylvie Wilson?”
I turned, already bracing myself. Not because of the speaker, an elderly lady with a walker I didn’t recognize, but because I knew what was about to happen.
“That’s me,” I said.
“I thought you looked familiar. Your grandmother used to show me pictures of you. I’m Sheila Rodriguez.” The woman balanced herself carefully with one hand gripping the walker’s rail and gave me her other to shake. “I just wanted to say that I am very sorry about your grandmother. Helen was a truly wonderful lady. She was very proud of you. Our bingo nights won’t be the same without her.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to sound appreciative when all I wanted was to be left alone. I’d had enough condolences for two lifetimes when I was here for my parents’ funeral.
They meant well, but that didn’t make it any easier, repeating the same lines over and over again.Thank you. I’m doing fine. No, I’ll be okay, thank you. Yes, she was wonderful.
Again. And again. I couldn’t. Not this time. I needed to say something else. A different topic, something besides death.
“Sheila,” I said, an idea coming to me. “You played bingo with my grandmother?”
“Every Monday night,” she confirmed.
“Had she stopped showing up lately?” I asked.
Sheila laughed, surprising herself. “Absolutely not. You couldn’t stop that woman if you tried. She was there early, helping set up most nights, and often stayed behind as well. She helped out anyone who needed it. I saw her just last week. She was as spry as ever. Which isn’t to say she was running around, but she never took a day off either.”
“Thank you,” I said, moving on as a line of people started to appear, others realizing who I was.
Most of them were a blur, names and faces of people I had never met or heard of but who had known my grandmother in some way and felt obliged to attend her funeral, to remember the life of a woman who would be sorely missed by half the town apparently.
I finally managed to extricate myself from the line and had nearly made it inside, when an elderly man fell in step alongside me. He moved easily and with pep for someone I judged to be in his mid-seventies, easily keeping up with me and not appearing to need to put much effort into it. He had standard male-pattern-baldness, but neglected to remove the sides and back, the silvery-gray hair tapering into a full beard that came halfway to his shoulders.
“Desmond Crane,” he said by way of introduction.
“Sylvie.” I didn’t feel the need to give him my last name. “What can I do for you, Mr. Crane?”
“Call me Des, please. Your grandmother did.”
I eyed the man. “If you insist.”
“I’m the head of the New Lockwood Historical Society,” he said. “Your grandmother was a founding member.”
“Oh. Okay?” Why was that important to me today? It didn’t feel like it should be.
“I just wanted you to know that our seats are, um, sort of dictated in an older, more traditional method.”
“Please, Mr. Crane, I’ve had a long day. I only found out a few hours ago that my grandmother had passed away and that the funeral is today. I don’t want you to think I’m always rude, but could you please get to the point?”
His face softened. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. That’s terrible. Ah, well, my point was that the seats on our board are determined via heredity. So, therefore, you now occupy a spot on the board of directors by default. There’s no rush, but I figured you should know. I’m not sure your grandmother would have put it in the will, and I know you’re from out of town, so I wanted to make sure I caught you before you leave again.”
“I see. Thank you.”I guess?This seemed like another person who knew my grandmother well, though. It could be worth asking … “Have you seen much of my grandmother lately, Des?”
“Once or twice a week for years now.”
