Page 12 of Lost Memories (Secrets of Mackinac Island 1)

Chapter Six

Afunny thing aboutpreparation for a funeral was that you were completely depleted of energy, overwhelmed with feeling, unable to eat a lick of food and still, you had to perform for people. You had to take meetings with the funeral homeowners; you had to make decisions. You had to dive through your mother’s many gorgeous gowns, analyze them, and ultimately decide which of them suited your mother best to be buried in. You had to make painful phone calls to loved ones; you had to write the obituary; you had to make announcements on Facebook and receive countless, “I’m praying for you, Elise,” messages, which seemed to do very little to heal the gaping hole in your heart.

“The Funeral of Allison Darby will be held at 1 p.m. at the Calabasas Family Funeral Home on August 14,” Elise wrote on her personal Facebook page. “There will be a small get-together for close family and friends at my mother’s house afterward.”

Elise arrived at the funeral home about two hours before everyone else was meant to. She blinked wide eyes at herself in the long bathroom mirror and tapped a Kleenex across her cheek. She looked thin, almost too thin, as though the shock of it all had drawn her bones out from her skeleton. She willed them to go back in. She didn’t need strange comments from relatives and friends, demanding that she care for herself.

As if I could take care of myself when one of the only people I love in the world no longer exists on it.

Allison lay in her casket in the other room. From where Elise sat in the foyer, she could just make out the tops of her mother’s hands as they were splayed across her upper stomach. One of the funeral directors entered the foyer, flustered a bit. He seemed surprised to see her.

“Oh. Elise. Hello,” he said.

For the life of her, Elise couldn’t remember this guy’s name.

“Hey,” she said.

“You’re early. We were just toying with some of the music you sent to us to play. Are you really sure about Patsy Cline?”

“Absolutely,” Elise affirmed. “She would have wanted nothing else.”

The man looked worried, as though he’d personally been to a funeral that played only Patsy Cline, and the result had been disastrous. Still, Elise couldn’t imagine anything about the funeral going well, per se. If anything, Allison would have known how to shine a light on it. She always knew how to get the party going.

Suddenly, the foyer door swung open to reveal Penny and Brad. Both looked as though they marched straight from the pages of a fashion magazine. Penny’s blonde hair swung toward her waist, and she looked trim and toned. Even as her eyes reflected tears, she revealed a big-toothed smile the moment she spotted her mother. Brad beamed and adjusted his suit jacket.

“There she is,” Penny said. She tapped her heels gently toward her mother and then crumpled down beside her, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get down here earlier.”

“It’s okay, honey,” Elise affirmed. She kissed her daughter on the cheek and beamed. “It’s just been go-go-go the past few days, and I’m about ready to collapse. Brad’s been a pretty big help, though. I can’t thank him enough.”

Brad’s cheeks burned red. Since he was Los Angeles-based, he had arrived at his grandmother’s house just about forty minutes after his mother’s phone call. He had sat on the couch with Elise as she’d cried into another round of Kleenex, ordered pizza for dinner, and helped her make the first round of phone calls. He had looked like a little kid as he’d helped her—much more like the eight-year-old who had been too afraid to try out for soccer than a twenty-one-year-old that was on the verge of taking over the world. Still, at the end of the night, they’d somehow found ways to laugh with one another, already recounting old stories of Brad’s grandmother—memorializing her in a way.

“I told Brad I think we should grab something to eat before the ceremony starts,” Penny said. She arched her brow toward him, as though she was a bit annoyed that Brad hadn’t thought to feed their mother that morning.

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Elise said.

“Come on, Mom. If you’re going to handle the influx of all these different people from Grandma and your long life together, then I think you need some sustenance. You’ll be embarrassed if you fall on the floor,” Penny said, trying on the joke.

Elise told one of the funeral home directors that she planned to step out for a bit. He seemed relieved. Elise wondered if they were accustomed to people breaking down before the funeral itself and looked at her like a ticking time bomb. She didn’t blame them.

Outside, the August heat blared down upon them. Sweat billowed up on the back of her neck. Brad stretched both arms out on either side and said, “Man, wearing a suit in this weather is... comfortable.”

“I can only imagine,” Elise said with a laugh.

They stopped at a little café a few blocks from the funeral home. Penny demanded that her mother sit at a little three-person table as she ordered them cappuccinos and paninis and cookies, rare treats for women who tended toward California salads.

“Peanut butter chocolate chip?” Elise marveled, lifting the cookie up from the gorgeously painted china plate.

“Not until after you’ve eaten your panini, Momma,” Penny said playfully. “You know better.”

“Wow. I guess we have an authority on our hands,” Elise said, giving Brad a funny grin.

“She was always bossing me around when we were growing up,” Brad said, lifting his cheesy-tomato panini toward his lips. “I swear, the minute she left for Berkley, I could breathe again. Who are you tormenting up there, huh?”

Penny giggled. “You know I’ve got the theater department wrapped around my finger. They don’t know what to do without me up there this week.”

“Oh, right! Are you still auditioning for the play?” Elise asked. She could hardly believe she’d forgotten.

“Of course. And you’ll have to run lines with me over the next few days. You’re the only one I manage to get them down with,” Penny said.

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