“Willis was afraid that while he was asleep he would punch me with a thrashing arm or kick me with a flailing leg. I was willing to risk it, but he said he would never forgive himself if he injured me even by accident.”
Dolores leaned back in her seat. “I guess we should be on our way. Elton, do you know where the Harrold Brothers Funeral Home is located?”
“Sure ’nuff. It’s right along Colonial Drive. You want me to head on over?”
“If you would. I think it’s time for me to get everything done so Willis can have the final honors he deserves. Don’t you, Jess?”
“Of course. As long as you feel up to the task.”
“Well, I suppose the staff at Harrold Brothers will take care of organizing, but it would help for me to have a list.” She began ticking off on her fingers. “I’d like Pastor Forde to hold the memorial service over at Holy Mission Church. It’s cozy and so peaceful. Willis and I were married there. Then flowers. Willis didn’t care much about flowers, but I think he should have a few bouquets around him.”
She thought for a moment, tilting her head to one side. “Elton, I have noticed Marla Mae has a way with flowers . . .”
“She does that, ma’am.”
“Do you think she could be persuaded to team up with Toni Eggers over at Buds and Blossoms to create some understated but elegant floral arrangements to adorn the coffin?” Her voice started to crack.
“Miss Dolores, Marla Mae will do anything you need. You have only to let her know.”
Dolores sniffled. “That would be awfully kind of her. I know Willis was demanding when it came to the staff, so I am doubly relieved that you think she’ll help out.”
I reasoned it was likely that Marla Mae would extend herself to do her best for Dolores and just ignore the way Willis had treated her in the past.
Dolores continued with her list of priorities. “I will need to decide on some charities for donations in lieu of flowers, and there is Willis’s obituary to consider. Jess, you’re a writer . . .”
I should have seen this coming. “Well, that’s true—I am—but I write fiction. I invent stories from whole cloth. An obituary is factual, a testament to the life of the decedent . . .”
“Oh, bosh. I can tell you everything you need to know. Please, Jess. You’ll get it right. I know you will.”
“If that’s what you want, Dolores. I will do my best.” What else could I say?
If Willis was as prominent in the community as he seemed to be, it was likely a local newspaper had an “advance obit,” a prewritten obituary they updated periodically that was ready to print at a moment’s notice with only the addition of the final facts. I could start there.
“You’re a good friend, Jess.” Dolores sighed. “That was the one thing missing from Willis’s life. He knew so many people but there is no one who I could point to as being his good, true friend. How sad is that?”
“Sad as that may be, Willis was lucky enough to be well loved by you and by Abby. Many people never have that close a connection with anyone.”
I hadn’t even noticed we were in the mortuary parking lot until the car had stopped and I heard Elton pop the locks.
Dolores looked around. “Oh, we’re here. Elton, you are a treasure.”
He looked over his seat back. “I try, ma’am. I truly do.”
His face was so sincere that Dolores broke into a smile. I was happy to see it. I knew it was the first of many that would creep back into her life day by day, although I was sure she wouldn’t recognize that now.
* * *
Jonah Harrold was the oldest of the three brothers who owned the funeral parlor, which was founded by their father and his younger brother. He proudly showed us oil paintings of the founding brothers hung inside the entryway, and then led us to his office.
We sat in plush high-backed chairs around a cherrywood conference table with a herringbone inlaid top. The room was painted bright yellow, and half a dozen vivid watercolor paintings of birds and flowers adorned the walls. I’d never seen such a cheery room in a funeral parlor.
“Mrs. Nickens, we were all sorry to hear about Willis. He and I belonged to the same chapter of the Rotary Club, and my brother Dillon served on the Community Hospital fund-raising committee with Willis for several years. He did so much good. It’s a real loss to the service community.” He stopped for half a beat. “And to you, of course.”
“Thank you. I admit that I am lost, adrift, confused—all those things. I thank the Lord my good friend Jessica happened to be in town for a visit when the . . . accident happened. She helps bring me strength.”
Jonah Harrold smiled at me, and returned his attention to Dolores. “May I ask where Mr. Nickens is at present?”
“He’s at the Coroner’s Office, and before you ask, I don’t know when they will allow you to bring Willis here.”
He looked perplexed but decided to let that drop rather than make further inquiries. I am sure he knew as well as I did that if Willis had died by accident, Harrold Brothers would have collected the body by now.
“I want to be prepared for when they do release him, so I thought I would come to discuss plans with you.”
“Very wise, very wise indeed, Mrs. Nickens. If you would like to take a look at our facility and pick a room you think is suitable . . .”
Dolores interrupted. “First, I have a list of what I have decided so far. I was hoping you would coordinate it all. Holy Mission Church, flowers from Buds and Blossoms, and Marla Mae Anderson will work with them to approve the arrangements. Jessica will take
