Casket Case

Chapter 17

The sun rises as Grandpa drives through Rabbittown. His old truck has been rattling lately, but he ignores it. He’s used to the noise by now, and if it bothers other people so much, they don’t have to drive it. Nora worries, but he has been driving twice as long as she’s been alive.

He follows his usual route past the church and the cemetery, and around the corner to Jack’s. When his wife, the first Eleanora Clanton, was alive, she made breakfast every morning. Now that he lives alone, he realizes how much time and effort she spent in the kitchen. They should have been driving to Jack’s every morning and spending more time at Pearl Café in the evenings.

Grandpa picks up his sausage biscuit and coffee from the counter and finds his seat among the other old-timers in the community. The gossip about high school sports and something to do with the church choir gets repetitive, especially with the literal repetition of every other sentence to reach Don Graham’s hearing aid. He sips the remainder of his coffee, waiting for an opportunity to exit the conversation without giving the impression that he has one opinion or another about the topic at hand.

The coffee at Jack’s is not anything to get excited about, but it has a reliable taste, and Grandpa didn’t have to make it himself. He can also order it by saying the word “coffee,” unlike the options at the Chat & Brew, which requires a full sentence of an order to make something spurt out of one of the machines behind the counter. On his way out the door, he has the young man behind the counter refill his cup.

Rabbittown Square is still waking up. Most of the businesses open at ten, but the lights are already on at Rabbittown Casket Company. Nora could probably open at ten, too, but she does things how her parents always did them, which is how Anita’s parents had always done them.

Grandpa had not agreed with Billy and Anita’s choice to keep the store open when Anita’s parents died. He had tried to talk Billy out of it. He had tried to talk him into selling it many times over the years. Then the worst had happened, and Nora got stuck with the blame place. Like her mama, she did what she thought was the right thing. Nobody within a stone’s throw of Nora had wanted this for her. She was supposed to be the one to get out of here. But here she was. Repeating history.

They had all tried to explain the business to him, as if he couldn’t possibly understand why anyone would do that sort of work. Of course, as far as they knew, he had retired from an insurance company. He could have explained everything, but it had always seemed like something they could talk about later. Then Billy and Anita’s names had been on the list, and he knew he had missed his chance. Once you were on the list, there was no changing it. He had tried when he’d seen his wife’s name on the list, years earlier. She had understood, and eventually, he had, too.

Grandpa figures Billy and Anita knew a little about Death, even if they didn’t realize he had been part of it. They wouldn’t have had a reason to suspect it, since he was never in the field. He had worked in one of the local offices before technology had taken over a lot of what he used to do. Maybe the information would have been passed down to Nora if things had been different.

He thinks about telling her the truth from time to time, but he’s never been able to go through with it. It would change things between them, and he knows his name will be on the list soon enough.

He hadn’t put Garrett and Death together at first. There’s no secret head nod or handshake that would give it away. He had started to wonder when Ed mentioned seeing him at the Sanderson boy’s accident. The first time he had laid eyes on Garrett had been the night Frank died, after all. Once he had seen the business card, he had known for sure.

He can’t say how much Nora knows, but he assumes it’s a lot, based on the past few weeks. Maybe it’s something she would have learned eventually anyway, working in the casket store. He won’t ask her about it. He’ll do what he’s always done as far as Eleanora Clantons are concerned and keep showing up until she’s ready to talk.

“You’re out early,” Nora says, hugging her grandpa carefully, so she doesn’t spill any coffee from the Jack’s Styrofoam cup in his hand.

“I wanted to see about you,” he says. She sat next to him at church, but they hadn’t had a chance to catch up. He’s wearing an Alabama hat that has seen better days. Probably in the 1970s, to be exact.

“I’m here,” she says. “Want to see the award?” Her dad’s tombstone-shaped Lifetime Achievement Award sits on the edge of the desk because she’s not sure where to put it. It deserves a place of pride, but it might creep out customers who are already primed to be creeped out when they enter a casket store.

He nods, and she gives it to him. He examines it, putting down his cup so he can weigh it in both hands. “This thing is heavy.”

“I think it’s granite,” she says.

He places it on the counter and sits down in one of the empty chairs in front of the desk. “How was the ceremony?”

“Better than I thought it would be. I didn’t realize Mom and Dad spent so much time with those people.”

“Well, your dad thought of everyone as family.”

Nora resists the urge to point out where her dad had learned that trait. “That’s true.”

Nora slides her feet out of her Target flats and into the fuzzy slippers she has started keeping under her desk since Garrett walked in on her that very first day with her bare feet on the desk. If she can’t trust herself to keep her shoes on, she thinks slippers might be slightly better than walking around the store barefoot. She tries to wipe out that memory and replace it with a memory of Johnny. That’s how it’s supposed to work, isn’t it?

“How was Johnny Chandler?” Grandpa asks.

At first, Nora wonders if he was reading her mind, but his question does make the trip a little easier to discuss without causing some sort of heart malfunction. It’s not a great idea to surprise an eighty-five-year-old. “Well, it wasn’t what I was expecting. It was surprisingly fun.”

He doesn’t react right away. Instead, he reaches for his coffee and takes a sip. If he’s doing this to make her squirm, it’s working.

“I know it’s weird,” she says. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“So, nothing from Garrett, then?”

Nora takes a deep breath. “Well, he came to the conference, actually. For the award ceremony.”

Grandpa’s eyes widen. “That was right nice of him.”

“I guess.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “I wish your mama and daddy were here, just so I could see the looks on their faces. You and a Chandler.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure they know. Maybe they orchestrated it.”

“Think they’re getting bored up there?”

She shrugs. “I doubt it if they can see what’s going on around here.”

He turns his coffee cup in his hands, waiting for her to get her thoughts together. Or maybe he’s getting his own thoughts together. Either way, they sit in silence for a few minutes, giving her a chance to try to make sense of everything in her brain.

“I was trying to convince myself that I could work things out with Garrett, but it just doesn’t make sense. I know Johnny’s family hasn’t always been that nice to us, but Johnny’s been nice to me lately, and he’s different once you get to know him. Plus, he understands all of this .” She gestures to the store, and specifically to the row of caskets in the front.

“I’m not here to judge you,” Grandpa says. “If you’re sure.”

She doesn’t owe Garrett anything, but she does plan to keep his secrets. Besides, those secrets are something else you don’t just drop on an eighty-five-year-old. “I don’t think Garrett and I were ever really on the same page. I just thought we were. Johnny lives here, and he already knows everyone. We’ve known each other forever.”

“I can’t tell if you’re convincing yourself or me,” he says. “But you don’t have to be sure right now. Try some patience on for size.”

“I’m tired of waiting, Grandpa.”

He laughs. “I can see that, even with these old eyes.”

“I just want something of my own. Everyone else seems to have it already.”

He reaches across the desk between them and pats her hand. “These things can’t be rushed. You won’t be happy.”

“You don’t think I’ll be happy with Johnny?”

“That’s not what I meant. You have to make your own choices.”

—

Nora spends a quiet night at home. She does some laundry and makes pasta for dinner. Well, as much as boiling some spaghetti noodles and mixing them with sauce she found in the pantry counts as making pasta. She straightens up the house while watching a football game. In these moments, she sees that everything is fine. The store is fine. Her relationships are fine. There’s nothing she should be doing to make any of it better, at least for one night.

She’s in bed watching Cheers when Johnny calls.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says when she answers.

“I think there are other numbers you can call for that.”

“A business proposition, Clanton. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“What kind of proposition?”

“Can you meet tomorrow? At my office? I’ve been thinking about what you said about selling the store. We should talk about details. See if it’s something we want to do.”

Nora stares at the frozen image on her TV screen. Sam had sold the bar, and everything turned out fine, didn’t it? “Sure. What time?”

“Eleven o’clock. I’ll take you to lunch afterward.”

She smiles. “I would like that.”

Maybe, Nora thinks, she should start going through the motions and the feelings will follow. Some decisions are fifty-one percent one way and forty-nine percent the other, and you eventually have to accept that an answer is an answer. Instagram therapists are always right.

—

Nora rifles through her closet, looking for anything that will be appropriate both for a work meeting and for lunch with a man she might like. She settles for her least-wrinkly pair of dark gray pants with a wannabe-silk maroon top with cap sleeves. Not exciting, but not frumpy. Nothing she’ll fiddle with during awkward moments, although she can always seem to find something to fiddle with, no matter how she tries to prevent it from happening. She dries her hair and applies real makeup, stops for a coffee, and still manages to make it into town a few minutes early for her meeting with Johnny.

The Anniston location of Chandler Funeral Homes was their first location and, of course, became their finest. Giant white columns line the front of the dark-brick three-story building. The first floor is ceremony and visitation space, while the top floors are said to be offices. Nora can’t fathom why they would need so many employees to have so many offices, and she certainly can’t imagine how they make enough money to pay that many people. In the past few years, the Chandlers had opened locations in Heflin, Talladega, Pell City, and Sylacauga. Nora could tell Johnny was exhilarated by all of the expansion, but the thought of opening another branch of Rabbittown Casket Company made her want to run away. Johnny could probably do more with the store than she ever could. Maybe she wasn’t competitive enough to run a business.

She steps into the building, unsure of where Johnny’s office is, until she sees him standing on the other side of the foyer talking to someone. As she approaches, she recognizes Larry from the National Funeral Directors Society conference.

Johnny greets her with a hug. It feels a little weird, especially in a business context, but Nora feels weird in most contexts that involve hugs.

“You remember Larry?” Johnny asks.

Larry extends a hand and shakes Nora’s with vigor. “Larry Hill. Great to see you again.”

“Great to see you, too.” She looks to Johnny. “I’m sorry, did I get the time wrong?”

“Nope. You’re right on time. Let’s go to my office.”

They ride in the elevator together, as Johnny and Larry recount a story from their golf outing. Both of them find the story hilarious, but Nora doesn’t understand the humor in a grown man throwing a golf club into the woods. She does appreciate the appeal of a well-tailored suit and fancy loafers and the dad-like quality of Larry in a Prestige polo and tennis shoes.

Johnny leads them down the hall, past other offices with people at their desks typing on their keyboards. It brings Nora back to her time in finance, when she would spend all day typing on her keyboard, waiting for a co-worker or a client to interrupt the monotony. Now her daily interruptions are usually tinged with grief, except for the one time someone had come in to ask for directions.

The office at the end of the hall keeps Nora from thinking any further about that. Johnny’s office is about the same size as Nora’s entire store. The windows overlook downtown Anniston, and she thinks she can make out the steeple for Parker Memorial in the distance. He has a living room set up, with a couch and easy chairs, on one side of the room and a conference table on the other side. His desk is next to the windows, with full bookshelves lining the back wall. Nora hadn’t taken him for a reader, but really, how well does she know him?

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” Larry says as they all take their seats.

“It has crossed my mind,” Nora says, hoping for a whimsical tone but not quite getting there.

“Well,” Larry begins, “Johnny mentioned you might be looking to make some changes at Rabbittown Casket Company, and I thought I might kick in my two cents. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I knew your parents for years. I’d love to help you brainstorm.”

Nora glances at Johnny, who shows no signs of being annoyed or surprised by this. He had invited Larry to the meeting, after all. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but I’m happy to hear your input,” Nora replies. Her face says otherwise.

“You said you never expected to be running your family’s store,” Johnny says. “There are a few different ways you could go about it, and Larry has years more experience than I do—right, Larry?”

“I think that’s your way of calling me an old man, but I might as well use all those years of funeral talk for something.”

“Seems to me,” Johnny begins, “the obvious way to start is selling the store. The different options come in when you think about what role you would want in the future.”

“It’s really common for smaller funeral homes or casket stores or hearse companies to sell the business and stay on as part of the staff,” Larry explains. “I’ve worked with a lot of those businesses on those deals.”

“At Prestige?” Nora asks.

“Yes, I’ve been there for twenty-five years. We do a lot of this sort of thing.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“A lot of these small companies are going under,” Johnny says. “With Prestige, the business gets to stay open.”

Nora stares at Johnny, trying to piece things together. “Assuming you’re talking about me, my store isn’t going under.”

Johnny and Larry can’t get the protests out of their mouths fast enough.

“I just meant to say that they help people who need it,” Johnny says.

“A lot of people try to separate business and personal,” Larry adds, “but businesses like yours are a family operation, and we want them to still feel like family for everyone involved, even after Prestige takes over.”

“Got it. What does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Johnny begins, rocking back in his leather rolling chair. “I was telling Larry I was thinking about making you an offer, and he mentioned that Prestige might be interested, too.”

“ Well, ” Nora says, “I might not be as successful as the two of you, but I do have a business degree and I’ve seen a few movies, so it’s a little odd that the two of you are here together if you’re both trying to buy my business.”

Johnny smirks, and Nora isn’t as charmed as she usually is. She stares at him, waiting for a response that doesn’t treat her like a child.

“You sound just like your dad. He liked to get to the bottom of things, too,” Larry says. Nora isn’t charmed by him, either. “We think there’s something here for all three of us. Johnny and I could go in together to buy the business. You’d get the best of both of our companies, and you could stay on as staff or take that money as a chance to start over, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Personally, I’d love it if you stayed on,” Johnny says. “At least for a while.”

Nora nods. This is what she wanted. To get out. The money would be nice. She could live on it until she decides what to do next. “What’s the timeline on this?”

“I think that’s a question for you,” Larry says. “We’d love to start talking about details as soon as you’re ready.”

“How would that work?”

“We’d have to get lawyers involved,” Johnny says. “Which is my least favorite sentence in the world. But we’d have to go through your finances and assets and come up with a proposal for you.”

Larry starts talking about lawyers, and Nora tunes him out, turning her attention to the framed photos around the room. She recognizes a few of Johnny’s family members and a couple from fancy vacations. What would her parents think of her being here, in this office? Had they ever been here? What had they really thought of Larry? They could either be screaming at her from wherever they are or be completely supportive, and she would never know.

“Nora?” Johnny calls.

“Sorry, it’s a lot to think about,” she says. “Can I have a couple of days?”

“Of course!” Larry says. “We aren’t deciding anything today. Take as much time as you need.”

“Great, thank you both for talking with me,” Nora says, as politely as she can manage, even though they all know she was ambushed.

Johnny stands, signaling everyone to stand, and he walks them back down to the elevator.

“I’ve gotta get going to another meeting,” Larry says once they’re in the lobby. “But here’s my card. Let’s stay in touch.”

Nora takes the card. “Thanks, Larry. I’ll let you know soon.”

“See ya, Johnny.”

They all shake hands, and when the door shuts behind Larry, Nora turns to face Johnny.

“Lunch?” he asks.

“Oh, we’re going to talk somewhere.”

“Let’s take a walk.”

Nora follows him out the door and onto the sidewalk. He seems to have a destination in mind, so she hurries to try to keepup.

“Are you sure you can walk in those shoes?” Nora asks.

“Don’t start with me, Clanton.”

“Where are we going?” The weather is about as perfect as it can get in Alabama—seventy degrees and sunny. No rain. No storm. No oppressive heat.

“Don’t you trust me?” He gives her one of his trademark smirks.

“Not after what you just did.”

“I just did you a solid.”

“Working with Prestige? Are you kidding me?”

Johnny pauses to let a car pass before jaywalking across the street. Nora looks both ways before following him. She might follow him into a lot of situations, but traffic is not one of them.

“Can you slow down?”

He stops to let her catch up. “Can you walk faster?”

“I could run, I guess.” She takes his arm to keep him at a calmer pace. “And you could answer my questions.”

“Remind me what they were.”

“Where are you taking me right now?”

He points ahead toward the old train station, which has been turned into a brewery. “I thought we could get a beer.”

“Do you normally drink at lunch?”

“If the situation warrants.”

“And you think this situation requires a beer?”

He smiles down at her. “I think there’s a small chance you end up yelling at me, so yes.”

They walk into the brewery, and he pauses to say hello to the staff working behind the bar before leading Nora to a table.

“You must come here often,” Nora says as she slides into the booth.

“It’s close to work.”

Nora looks down at the menu, pretending to study the options, but her brain is full of everything that happened that morning.

“You want a beer?” Johnny asks. When Nora nods, he waves at the bartender and holds two fingers in the air. After the beer arrives, Johnny sips his and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Nora rolls her eyes and swallows a sip of her own drink. “You put yourself in this position by lying to me.”

“I never lied.”

“You told me I would be meeting with you. You didn’t mention Larry or Prestige at all. I was blindsided.”

“I invited you to a meeting. I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you about Larry.”

“That should have been enough for you to know not to invite him. I wanted to talk to you about it. Not him. This is my family’s business, Johnny. It’s not a joke to me.”

“You think it’s a joke to me? I brought Larry into this so you can get a better deal.”

“You should have talked to me about it. I could have been more prepared.”

“Well, I didn’t. I’m sorry. But you handled yourself fine.”

Nora sighs. “This is all just a lot to process.”

“I know. What do you think?”

She laughs. “I think a lot of things.”

“Larry seems motivated. I think you’ll get a good offer.”

“Why is he even interested in my store? Why are you interested?”

“It pains me to admit this, but you’re running a successful business. Against all odds, I might add. There should not be a casket company in Rabbittown.”

“Everyone dies,” Nora says. “Even people in Rabbittown.”

“You know, there are people out there who have happy jobs.”

“I used to be one of them.”

“You could be one of them again. Or stay here and hang out with me and all the corpses. The world is your oyster, Clanton.”

“I don’t like oysters.”

“Choose your own sea creature, then.”

“Well, if I’m going to keep the store profitable, I have to get back to it eventually.”

“Let’s order. What do you want?”

“What are you getting?” Nora asks, flipping over the menu.

Johnny raises his hand to wave at the bartender. “Can we get two burgers, Drew?”

“Sure thing, man,” Drew shouts.

Nora hits Johnny with her menu. “I asked what you were getting. I didn’t tell you to order for me.”

He takes the menu from her and slides it to the end of the table. “If you hate it, you can order something else. Order the whole menu.”

“Whatever.”

Johnny laughs. “Are you twelve years old?”

“Actually, I’ll be thirty-one tomorrow.”

“No shit. You weren’t going to tell me?”

“I just did.”

“Are you having a party?”

“I’m not a party person, but I’m having dinner with my grandpa.”

“We should do something this weekend.”

“Me and you?”

“And Larry, of course.”

Nora tries not to laugh, but she can’t help it.

“Yes, me and you. What do you think?” Johnny asks.

“I’m open to it. You have my number.”

—

When she wakes up the next morning, nothing is different. She feels the same. She looks the same. Everything else looks the same. She gets ready like always. She drives to the store like always. She thinks this is one reason so many people are let down by birthdays: you expect everything and everyone to be different or special, including yourself, but nothing ever is. It’s just another Thursday, except a delivery man brings two giant bouquets of flowers around lunchtime.

“It must be your birthday,” he says. He slides both vases onto the counter. One bouquet is long-stemmed red roses. The other has sunflowers, daisies, and other brightly colored flowers that Nora can’t name right off.

“It is,” she says. “But I wasn’t expecting either of these.”

“Good surprises, I hope.”

“Can’t really complain about flowers.”

“Well, have a happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

He exits as quickly as he came, and she’s left to examine the flowers. She opens the card on the roses first. It says: “Happy Birthday! See you soon.” It’s signed “J.”

She’s opening the card on the second bouquet when the delivery man rushes back in the door. “Sorry, I forgot this part of the gift.” He hands her a small box wrapped with balloon-covered paper, and then he’s halfway out the door again.

“Wait, there’s no card for this one?” she asks.

He stares at the box for a moment. “I think it goes with one of the bouquets. Let me call the store and ask.”

“That’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“Sorry, again,” he says, running out the door.

She finishes opening the card for the second bouquet, expecting to see her grandpa’s name, or Jean’s name, or the name of someone else from the church, but instead it reads: “Happy Birthday! All my love, Garrett.”

Nora’s brain starts up. She didn’t even remember telling Garrett when her birthday was, but he remembered it. She will overthink this later, but first she has a gift to open.

Her heart catches as the wrapping paper falls away, and she knows this gift didn’t come from Johnny. She tilts the box, and a baseball falls into her hand. One side of the ball has the Cheers logo on it, and the other side is autographed: “Mayday Malone #16.”

“Oh my God,” she says aloud to an empty store.

She tosses the ball into the air a couple of times and admires the signature. She figures this came from some internet Cheers store and that Ted Danson has no idea it exists. She doesn’t care. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what she didn’t know she wanted.

She scrambles around in her purse to find her phone.

Garrett answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

She’s running on a bit of adrenaline and doesn’t feel nervous until she hears his voice. “Uh, hi. It’s me. It’s Nora.” She traces her fingers over the seams on the ball.

“I know.” She hears him smile, and it makes her smile, too.

“I’m sorry to call in the middle of the day. I should have asked if you were free.”

“I’m free.”

“Well, I’m calling because I just got your present.” She looks at the bright bouquet beside her. “Oh, and the flowers, too. They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. The ball is perfect. I don’t even know what to say. I love it.”

He laughs. “I’m glad. When I saw it, I knew I had to get it.”

“It’s perfect,” she says again. “The internet is a wild place.”

“I ordered it from the real Cheers. It’s in Boston. We could go. Or you should, at least.”

She’s not used to hearing Garrett stumble over his words. It adds to the bubbly feeling building in her heart. “Yeah, that sounds cool. I’ve never been to Boston.”

“Me either.”

They sit there for an awkward beat, and then they both try to talk at the same time.

“Go ahead,” she says.

“I was just going to say, I’ll be at home with my family this weekend, but when I get back, I’d like to see you. If that would be okay.”

If nothing had changed between them, she would have been with him in Raleigh, meeting his family, and she feels a pang of regret that they had spent so much time apart. “I think that would be okay. Have fun with your family, and thank you, again, for the gifts.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good birthday.”

She hangs up and starts to pace. Friends get each other presents all the time, right? They’ve been through the “more than friends” part of it already, and it doesn’t work. Nora wants to be with someone who aligns with her beliefs and her values. She can’t worry about what he’s doing when he goes to work every day. She can’t live a secret life.

She tosses the ball back and forth between her hands. It isn’t just any present, at least not to Nora. Garrett knows what Cheers has meant to her. It’s been her constant since her parents died. It’s been her comfort. It’s been her company through the grief. Sure, that sounds silly. It certainly doesn’t make logical sense that a 1980s sitcom about a bar would help her through the loneliness of the past year, but there doesn’t seem to be any logic in grief. Even her most elaborate pro and con lists couldn’t help Nora cope with the losses in her life. When she feels like she’s sinking, she grasps on to whatever might keep her afloat, and Cheers has been that thing on so many nights.

Garrett’s gift honors that, but how much should she read into it? He didn’t seem to get it. He didn’t understand why she would be so upset with him about his job working for Death, after all Death had taken from her and others around her. Did this mean he understood now?

Nora stops that line of questioning and takes a drink of water to try to reset her brain. She knows it doesn’t have to mean anything like that. It means he knows her well enough to get her a decent birthday present. Expecting something out of nothing is going to get her where it’s always gotten her: nowhere.

She puts the ball into a desk drawer to examine Johnny’s roses. Now, this is a romantic gift. This gift means something. You don’t send roses like these to a random girl. Johnny likes Nora, and Nora likes Johnny. She doesn’t need to mess this up because of a fantasy that will never come true.

She texts Johnny a photo of the roses with the caption Thank you. They’re beautiful and adds a red heart emoji.

After an hour or so he replies: Happy Birthday Clanton. See you this weekend.

—

As Nora pulls her car into her grandpa’s gravel driveway, she tries to imagine what the place looks like objectively, instead of what it looks like to her. It’s certainly old. Certainly lived in. There’s no sod, just normal grass. The yard and the flower beds are maintained by an elderly person, so they wouldn’t be on HGTV, but Nora loves it here. This house means a lot to her, cluttered garage and all.

Nora walks in without knocking, as she always does, and she realizes the birthday dinner is more like a party than advertised. Grandpa is in the living room with Joe and Jean, and someone has hung streamers around the room and into the kitchen. There’s a cardboard “Happy Birthday” sign tacked to one wall, covering an old family portrait.

“What’s all this?” she asks.

“Happy birthday!” they call in unison. Even though Nora didn’t want a fuss, she’s glad to be spending the night with family.

She’s greeting Grandpa, Joe, and Jean when Margaret, Ed, and Ms. Annie walk in. There are more hugs and hellos before they all try to choose places to sit on the screened-in front porch. Seeing Ms. Annie reminds Nora of Frank, which reminds her of Garrett, and she stops those thoughts before they can get going. Nora sits next to her grandpa on the swing hanging from one end of the porch, and everyone else finds a mismatched chair.

“I didn’t expect all this,” Nora says.

“Well, it’s not every day you turn thirty-one,” Grandpa says.

“You just had to remind me.”

“You’ve got a lot of years to go, honey,” Jean says. “You don’t know old yet.”

Nora sees Ed elbow Margaret and knows something ridiculous is coming.

“Now, I know it’s your birthday, but I heard something, and I’ve been dying to ask you about it,” Margaret says. “What’s going on with you and Johnny Chandler?”

“Well, what did you hear?”

“I heard he’s been picking you up at the store in that big truck of his.”

“He picked me up once, ” Nora clarifies.

“Oh, here we go,” Jean says under her breath, but plenty loud enough for everyone on the porch to hear it.

“There’s not much to tell. He drove me to the conference where I got that award for Dad. I’m seeing him sometime this weekend.”

“Dating your competitor is an odd choice,” Joe says. “But what do I know?”

Nora gives Grandpa a look and hopes no one notices. She knows no one here likes the Chandler family. Maybe that’s why Grandpa invited them.

“Well, to be honest, he’s interested in buying the store.”

After a moment of shock and gaping mouths, Grandpa asks, “What do you mean?”

“Nothing is certain, but I was telling him that I never meant to be living in Rabbittown and running the store, and he thought we might be able to come up with a deal to help us both, if that’s what I decide. I could keep working there, if I want. Or use the money to take a break and figure out what I want to do. There are a few different options.”

“And you’re thinking about it?” Jean asks.

“Yes. I love being so close to all of you, but it’s not a secret that it’s been a hard year here. I never wanted to sell caskets. I never wanted any of this.”

Margaret looks at Ms. Annie, and then they both look at Jean. No one seems to know the right thing to say.

Ed clears his throat. “The way I see it, you’re grown. You’ve gotta make your own decisions.”

Nora relaxes a bit, knowing that Ed is the most level-headed of the group. Maybe this idea isn’t completely around the bend.

“I just can’t imagine Rabbittown Casket Company in the hands of the Chandlers,” Margaret says. “What would your Papa Moore say?”

“You act like she’s selling out to the devil,” Jean says.

“She might get more money out of the devil,” Joe says, elbowing Jean.

“I haven’t gotten any money out of anybody yet,” Nora says. “We’re just talking. I’m the one who brought it up. I didn’t expect him to make an offer, but here we are. I feel like the most responsible thing to do would be to hear him out. And my Papa Moore isn’t here. It’s just me.” She wants to remind them that her Papa Moore was an old crank who hated everything and everyone except for the Crimson Tide. He would have hated everything her parents did with the store, so really, she was just continuing her family legacy of disappointing the generation that came before.

“There’s no rush,” Grandpa says, patting her leg. “It will sort itself out.”

“I believe we’re supposed to be celebrating,” Jean says.

“I believe you’re right,” Grandpa says, standing from his seat on the swing. “Why don’t we have some supper?”

The rest of the night goes as well as it can go. Ed and Joe set up card tables on the porch, so everyone can eat in the same room. They have Nora’s favorite meal, pot roast and fried okra. Nora gets a few more presents: her favorite candle from Ms. Annie, Braves tickets from Joe and Jean, and a beautiful chocolate birthday cake from Ed and Margaret (mostly Margaret), and then her grandpa gives her a framed photo of the two of them.

“Was this at Frank’s?” Nora asks about the photo.

“Ms. Annie took it for us a while back. I thought we could use an updated picture.”

“I love it,” she says, trying to hold back her feelings. The day has been enough without adding tears to it. It hasn’t been her first birthday without her parents, but Nora wonders how many years it will take not to think about her dad’s singing voicemails or her mom’s macaroni and cheese.

“I have one, too,” he says. He points at the mantel, and Nora feels bad that she didn’t notice when she came in that he had added a new brown frame next to the old ones.

As it gets later and the gossip runs out, they all decide to call it a night. Nora says goodbye to everyone individually, thanking them for her presents.

When she gets to Grandpa, he whispers, “Be easy, girl. Everything will be fine.”

She hugs him tightly, “I know. Thanks for tonight. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—

As Nora drives into town on Friday night, she doesn’t know what to expect. Johnny has invited her over to his house for some sort of birthday celebration, and she assumes it could turn out either mildly awkward and mostly okay or horrifically bad on all levels. They don’t know each other well enough for him to plan the perfect birthday celebration for her, which generally involves as little attention on her as possible.

Even though they have a lot of obvious things in common, they’ve led very different lives. He lives down the road from his parents, near the country club, and she figures he must have a landscaper because there’s no way his yard would be this immaculate otherwise. He answers the door in a golf shirt and shorts and leads her to the kitchen, where he presents a table full of Chinese takeout.

“Happy birthday!”

“Who is going to eat all this?” Nora asks.

“I didn’t know what you wanted.”

“You could have asked.”

“Maybe I didn’t know what I wanted. There will be leftovers. It’s fine.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“Don’t make it weird, Clanton.” He reaches into the cabinet to take out two white plates, and he hands her the top one. “Birthday girl goes first.”

Nora fills her plate with a little of everything: fried rice, lo mein, two kinds of chicken, and two kinds of egg rolls. She thinks she might have overdone it until she watches Johnny cover his plate with one layer of entrees and lo mein and then a second layer of egg rolls. He pours a glass of wine for each of them, and Nora thinks of Garrett for a moment, before she forces him out of her mind.

They eat at Johnny’s dining room table, which doesn’t seem like it’s ever been used. The house is beautiful and well decorated, but she doesn’t get the feeling he picked any of the décor out. There doesn’t seem to be a theme, other than expensive. Some of the paintings on his walls could be in a dentist’s office.

“Where did you get that?” she asks about an abstract painting of blue and green lines hanging on the wall behind him.

“Some art dealer in Birmingham,” he says, barely looking up from his plate. “I don’t remember. I’m sure you’ll judge me for that.”

“I’m not judging. It’s nice.” It’s not nice, but she doesn’t know what else to say.

“I’m not that attached to it.” He uses his chopsticks to pick up a pile of lo mein noodles and slurps one into his mouth. “How was your first birthday dinner?”

“It was good. My grandpa invited over some family friends, and we had pot roast and cake.”

“That sounds nice. My family doesn’t really do birthdays like that.”

“Not even when you were little?”

“We had big parties when we were kids. One year, my mom rented ponies for my sister.”

“And now?”

“We usually just text one another or send flowers or something.”

“Maybe you should invite them over for your birthday this year.”

He laughs. “That sounds like the worst birthday I can imagine.”

“You don’t get along?”

He pushes a pile of rice across his plate with his chopsticks. “There are pain points in all families.”

“That’s a very polite answer.”

“I’m a polite guy.”

“Well, I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s fine. Enough about them. Have you thought any more about the deal?”

Nora sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“I’m not rushing you, but you can talk to me about it, no matter which way you’re leaning.”

“It seems to be happening quickly.”

“Nothing has to happen unless you want it to.”

“I know. It’s a lot to consider.” She picks up the last bite of her egg roll. “I can’t eat another bite after this.”

“You want to watch a movie or something?” he asks.

“Sure.”

Johnny takes care of their plates, while Nora attends to the leftover food containers.

“The fridge is pretty full,” Johnny says. “Let me make some room.”

As she waits, she notices a stack of papers on the edge of the counter and shifts it out of the vicinity of the food to keep it from getting covered in some kind of sauce. One of the pages sticking out of the pile catches her eye, as she makes out the word “Rabbittown” at the top. Her first inclination is to pretend she didn’t see it. He hadn’t shown her the papers, so she shouldn’t be looking at them. At the same time, she did see it. And she’s done with secrets.

She tries to pull the page out of the pile, but it’s stuck in a folder, so she grabs the whole folder. It has the Prestige logo on the front. When she opens it, she finds photos and drawings of her store. In some of the drawings, the Rabbittown Casket Company sign has been replaced with a Prestige logo.

“What is this?” Nora calls to Johnny.

He peeks his head out from behind the refrigerator door. “What is what?”

“This folder. Did this come from Larry?”

Johnny closes the door and leans against it. “Yeah, he dropped it off.”

Nora turns the pages to see more drawings, contracts, and financial figures and reports, all on Prestige letterhead. “I don’t see your name anywhere on this. Would it be two separate deals or something?”

“Uh, no, it would all go through Prestige.”

Nora closes the folder. “How does that work?”

“You don’t have to worry about that part.” He walks over to stand next to her. “Larry and I are working that out.”

“Well, I do worry about that part. Would I be selling the store to Larry or to you?”

“We’re working together.”

The rage inside Nora bubbles up before she can stop it. Johnny doesn’t necessarily deserve the brunt of it, but she’s had about enough of men lying under the guise of protecting her. “Cut the shit, Johnny. This is my whole life. I deserve the truth.”

Johnny sighs. “Look, it’s complicated. The deal would go through Prestige, but I’m part of it, too.”

Nora tilts her head. “How are you part of it? Are you getting paid?”

“Yes, I’m getting paid. My name just isn’t on it.”

“Are you getting fifty percent?”

“We haven’t worked out the details.”

Nora runs the situation through her mind. It’s not fully adding up. She can come up with only one answer, so she spits it out before she can talk herself out of it: “Are you getting a finder’s fee? Did you orchestrate all of this so that Prestige can buy my store?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Then explain it.”

“Look, Nora, you told me about the situation at the store, and I mentioned it to Larry. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but he’s like a dog with a bone, and Prestige could get this done a lot faster than I can and for more money.”

“And you get a cut.”

“Yes.”

All of the air has gone out of the room, and Nora is having trouble breathing. Her hands are clammy. Her face is red. Her first instinct is to run out the front door, but she resists.

“So that’s what all of this is.” She gestures at the counter of Chinese food in front of her. “You try to kiss me and send me flowers and invite me for dinner. You encourage me to talk to you about how I’m feeling. All this time, you’re just waiting to make money off of me. Off of my dead family.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that, Johnny. I can’t believe I trusted you. I knew better.”

“You can trust me. I’m trying to help you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I know how much you hate Prestige.”

“And you thought misleading me into selling my family’s business to them would turn out fine? That I wouldn’t notice?” She pulls out one of the drawings from the folder and points at the Prestige logo at the top of her building. “Was any of this real between us, or was the whole thing an act?”

“Of course it was real. Do you really think I would do all of this to get some money out of you?”

Maybe it’s intuition. Maybe it’s a message from above. She imagines her parents having to watch this whole thing with their hands over their faces. Maybe her grandpa was right, and she just needed time for things to work themselves out. But now she knows. She can feel it. All of this is wrong. Selling the store. Moving away. Johnny.

This was never about Johnny or Garrett or her parents or anybody else. This has always been about her. What does she want to do? Who does she want to be? She can’t expect anyone else to know the answers if she doesn’t know them herself.

While she’s not experiencing a miracle of biblical proportions, she has figured out exactly what she doesn’t want. She doesn’t want to be Nora Chandler, running a branch of funeral homes for Prestige. She doesn’t want holidays at the country club. She doesn’t want abstract paintings or housekeepers.

She doesn’t want to sell her family’s store. Not to Johnny. Not to Prestige. Not to anybody. Nobody knows how hard her family has worked to build that business. Nobody else helped her parents pick out the carpet. Nobody watched her dad get those four model caskets through the front door. Nobody knows and cares about the community like she does. If someone is going to be selling caskets in Rabbittown, it’s going to be a Clanton. It’s going to be her.

She knows what she wants, and as much as she hates to admit it to herself, it doesn’t involve Johnny Chandler.

“Thanks for dinner, Johnny. You can tell Larry no deal.”

“Don’t be like this. Give me a chance. Let’s talk about it.”

She could spend some more time avoiding the truth, but she decides it’s time to be honest with everyone, including herself. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I tried, but none of this is what I want.”

“You mean I’m not what you want. It’s James Bond, isn’t it? The guy from the conference?”

“It’s not James Bond. It’s me. That’s the truth.”

He nods. Then, the corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk. “Never thought I’d get my heart broken by a Clanton.”

She takes a step toward the front door. “I know my way out.”

He follows her to the foyer. “Can I just say something first? I know I’m not good enough for you, but neither is he, or he wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.”

“I think maybe you’ve got that the wrong way around.”