Another relationship she had to fix.
Brock’s exit came up sooner than Sara had anticipated. An angry woman in a Mercedes treated Sara to a one-finger salute as she swerved around the Porsche. Sara took a right onto the main road. Fast-food restaurants littered the strip. She was in an industrial area filled with warehouses, car dealerships and auto-parts stores.
Over the years, Sara had met Brock at work half a dozen times, but not recently enough to remember the exact location. She used the Porsche’s voice control to access the street number from her address book. According to the GPS, AllCare AfterLife Services was one mile away.
Brock’s employer was much smaller in scope than Dunedin Life Services Group, the conglomerate that owned the Ingle Funeral Home of Sautee. Sara knew that AllCare had headhunted Brock, adding a hefty bonus to the sale of the Brock Family Funeral Home in order to entice him to work for the company. His division handled the behind-the-scenes details that most mourners assumed took place in the basement of their local funeral parlor.
Georgia’s population was around 10.5 million. Roughly 60,000 people died every year. Large corporations were all about the economy of scale. In the funeral business, this meant that the bodies were transported to warehouses full of undertakers who washed, embalmed, dressed and casketed the dead before sending them back to the local homes for services. There was a lot of money to be had in streamlining a process that very few people ever thought about until they were forced to.
Sara recognized the nondescript building from before. The AllCare sign was tucked away under a large canopy, probably to discourage the general public from sussing out what took place inside. Sara pulled into a visitor parking space. She realized twenty minutes too late that she should’ve called Brock ahead of time. He was always so accommodating that sometimes she had to remind herself to not take advantage of him.
Too late now.
She tucked her phone into the front pocket of her purse, taking it as a small victory that she didn’t check to see if Will had turned his phone back on or by some miracle sent her a text.
The AllCare warehouse was as deep as it was wide, approximately the shape and size of a football field. The parking lot was filled with high-end cars. The day was ramping up. A line of mortuary vans idled, waiting to drop off or pick up bodies. Sara counted six semi-trucks pulled up to six loading docks. Two belonged to a local casket maker, another to a funeral supply house, and the remaining three to UPS.
The three drivers were carting dollies full of boxed caskets into the warehouse. By federal law, funeral homes were required to accept caskets purchased online. As with any consumer good, Costco, Walmart and Amazon had a big chunk of the market. The savings could be significant, much to the chagrin of companies like AllCare. The only thing that could take down a large corporation was another large corporation.
Sara’s phone beeped with a text. She expected Amanda and hoped for Will, but got her sister instead.
Tessa: You’re an asshole.
Sara wrote back: My sister is one, too.
Since she had her phone in her hand, Sara checked the Find My app. Will’s location was still frozen at Lena’s. She carefully placed her phone back in her purse as she walked up the concrete stairs to the entrance.
“Good morning.” The AllCare receptionist smiled as Sara entered the lobby. “How can I help you?”
“Good morning.” Sara placed her business card on the counter. “I’m looking for Dan Brock.”
“Brock just got back from a meeting.” The smile had brightened at his name. “Have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Sara was too antsy to sit. She paced around the small lobby as she waited for Brock. The warehouse did not serve the general public. The posters on the walls were geared toward the industry: pre-need funeral contracts, Treasured Tributes burial containers, an advertisement for a seminar on applying shadows to facial features. Someone had placed a sticker above the front door—
Drive Slow! We Don’t Need the Business!
“Sara?” Brock was grinning when she turned around. “What on earth?”
Before she could answer, he threw his arms around her in a bear hug. He smelled of embalming fluid and Old Spice, the same two scents she had associated with him since the age of ten.
He said, “My goodness, you look all done up. Were you on your way to a party?”
Sara smiled. “I’m here on business. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead.”
“I’m always here for you, Sara. You know that.” He waited for the receptionist to buzz open the door. “Let’s go back.”
Brock’s office overlooked the embalming area, which put him at the back end of the building. He caught Sara up on gossip as he led her down a long corridor, past several closed doors and a large employee breakroom. His mother’s asthma was acting up again, but she seemed content with the retirement home. He’d heard the pastor of the Heartsdale Methodist church had left under a cloud of suspicion. He was trying a new dating app for singles in the funeral business called Lucky Stiffs.
Sara asked, “It didn’t work out with Liz?”
He winced. Brock’s dating life had never been easy. He changed the subject, asking, “How’s your mama and them?”
“Will is doing great,” Sara said, engaging in a bit of wish fulfillment. “Daddy is semi-retired. Mama is still running around like crazy. Tessa is thinking about becoming a midwife.”
Brock stopped at
