being part of the community for over one hundred years. The austere whitewashed brick building was only slightly softened by hundreds of boxwoods surrounding it. These were cut into such tortuous shapes that it pained Peggy’s eyes to look at them.
“What is wrong with those bushes?” her father whispered as they walked into the cool interior.
“Bad pruning. Don’t worry. The Potting Shed didn’t do it.”
“Can I help you?” They were met immediately at the double front door entrance by a young man in a dark blue suit and no-frills white shirt. The interior of the building was as forbidding as the exterior. Muted mauve and gray dominated the walls, which also held displays of awards and certificates. There were huge sprays of pink and white gladioli on every table. But instead of offsetting the feeling of being in a mortuary, they enhanced it.
“We’re interested in finding a coffin.” She smiled and patted her father’s hand.
“Preplanning.” The young man sighed and smiled at the heavens above him. “What a wonderful gift to give your loved ones. What did you have in mind?”
“I want something showy. You know what I mean?” Her father took over the discussion, wrapping his arm around the young man’s thin shoulders and walking toward the tasteful display of coffins they could see in the next room. “None of that plain urn stuff. I want a big, gaudy coffin. The Cadillac. You know what I mean, son? I want to be noticed when I go out.”
He sounded like a Texas oil magnate, but it worked. The young man was so enthralled by the idea of a pricey funeral that he totally missed Peggy slipping out of the cold room. She went quickly past the array of wall sconces and niche urns, still hearing her father’s voice booming in the eerie quiet.
Now that she was here, she almost lost her nerve. How was she going to find Darmus’s coffin? What was she going to say if someone stopped her and asked what she was doing?
“Excuse me.” A young woman stopped her. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Peggy answered with more aplomb than she felt. “I’m looking for—for my stepbrother, Darmus Appleby. I flew in from Charleston to see him before the memorial service. My brother, Luther, said he arranged it for me.”
“Oh dear.” The woman glanced at her planner. “I don’t have anything about it.”
“I have something here from Luther, if that would help.”
“I should probably call him.”
“Well that’s part of the problem. Luther is dead now, too.” Peggy’s heart was beating fast. She broke out sobbing for all she was worth. She staged some of it, but some was real. She was crying for Darmus and Luther, for John and her good friend, Park Lamonte. All were men who died too early. Then there was her Aunt Sue and her cousin, Velma, who died in a boating accident last year. Poor, pretty, young Velma.
“I don’t see what harm it can do.” The young woman put away her planner and smiled at Peggy. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Peggy blew her nose on a delicate lace handkerchief she’d brought specially. Normally, she despised them. Germ carriers.
“I’ll take you back and give you a few minutes with the deceased.”
“Thank you.” Peggy sniffled in her crushed black felt hat and worn black suit. “Thank you so much.”
But when they got to the holding area where the deceased loved ones waited for their memorial services, Darmus’s coffin was sealed.
“I had so wanted to see his face one more time,” Peggy complained.
“Oh dear,” the young woman in the dark brocade suit muttered. “I forgot the coffin was sealed. There wasn’t supposed to be a viewing. No one realized you were coming.”
Peggy dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “We had a falling out. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him.”
“Of course not.” The woman patted her hand. “I can’t do anything about the coffin being sealed. I’m sorry. I can give you a few minutes of private time with him. That’s the best I can do.”
It would have to be enough. “Thank you.” Peggy smiled at her and sat down beside the huge bronze-colored coffin. “I’ll just sit here with him for a while.”
“That’s fine. I’ll come back and check on you.”
“That’s very sweet of you, dear.” Peggy looked around the room as the woman left her. It was filled with coffins and flowers. She concentrated on the flowers and their meanings. Gardenia plants said I love you secretly. Daisy was for loyal love. Gladiolus meant sincerity. Forget-me-not said memories. Cyclamen for good-bye. Even orange daylily for hatred. The freezing air was perfumed by them. She wondered how many people knew what the flowers they sent really meant.
But enough romanticizing flowers. It was always too easy to fall back into the world she loved. She had a job to do, and there was no time to be squeamish. She didn’t anticipate the body being locked in a sealed coffin. It could look suspiciously like another attempt to conceal Darmus’s identity.
Of course, Darmus was badly burned, her logical side argued. It wouldn’t be unheard of to keep the coffin sealed. In any case, she had a sturdy letter opener with a rose top in her pocketbook. It was a gift from the National Gardening Association. She always carried it with her in case she needed to protect herself. She’d never used it, but it seemed a fitting way to break it in.
Carefully, she slid the long, thin blade between the top and bottom of the coffin lid. There appeared to be a silicone gel between them. The letter opener cut through it slowly, but it wasn’t easy. She was making progress when she heard voices coming into the room.
Looking around for a place to hide before they kicked her out, Peggy went for the most sensible opportunity. There were several empty coffins, probably used for display, scattered around the huge, dimly lit room. With only a small moment of squeamish repugnance, she selected a silver coffin, climbed inside, and closed herself in it.
