Chapter 8
WESTON
The windshield wipers squeaked as a sudden rain shower lashed down against the car.
I stared out one window as the driver took us into town.
Lena stared out the other, the awkwardness of our earlier interaction lingering.
Once again, I’d said the wrong thing. I’d like to say, in my defense, I’d been caught off guard.
Because the last thing I’d expected to see walking around the corner from my room was Lena draped in nothing but a towel that clung tightly to her curves.
But now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.
Actually, it was never time for those thoughts.
Lena hummed uncertainly. I turned to her. “What is it?”
“I forgot to pack an umbrella,” she mused.
“It’ll stop,” I said with certainty.
She frowned. “Those clouds look awfully dark.”
“That’s Scottish weather for you,” I said. “One second it’s lashing down. The next it’s sunny and you’re wondering why you bothered with the brolly.”
It wouldn’t matter if the sun did come out though, I thought as we pulled into the parking lot of McCallister’s Funeral Home.
The tiny stone building sat just out of town, on a misty, tree-lined lot, south of the only cemetery in the area—the same cemetery where Grandad would be laid to rest next to Gran.
I stepped out of the car as the shower started to peter off.
Rain or shine, nothing would make this moment anything but gloomy.
Lena darted past me into the building. I felt like I was marching toward my own funeral as I followed after her.
“There’s an insane amount of tartan in here,” Lena whispered to me after we’d been introduced to Elspeth, the funeral director.
My eyes darted from the seating area where tartan throw pillows decorated the couch to the tartan doilies on the side tables and the massive tartan pennant hanging across the wall behind the welcome desk. “It’s making my eyes bug out.”
“We have a grand selection of urns,” Elspeth said before I could respond.
She was a slight woman, old enough to be graying at both temples, with a stern smile but kind eyes.
When we’d first walked in, she’d shared a story about having a pint at the pub with Grandad, which had made me feel a tiny bit better about this whole thing.
Planning to bury the only member of my family I genuinely loved was never going to be easy, but at least the person guiding me through the process was someone who remembered Grandad’s smile, someone who missed hearing his laugh.
“Classic brass. Hand-thrown ceramics have also been quite popular lately.”
My skin itched as I looked over the display of urns. I reached up to loosen my tie.
“But I suppose you’ve already settled on a casket. If you’ll follow me this way.”
My eyes landed on a thistle pattern etched into one of the urns, and a memory caught me.
A marbled headstone. A sea of flowers. I supposed I should have more memories of losing Gran, but it was mostly hazy glimpses of the family standing around a green field and then a crowded pub filled with rattling glasses and loud voices.
If I was present for any of that funeral’s planning, I’d certainly blocked it out.
And maybe that was for the best. Talking about Grandad, about what he would have wanted, knowing he wasn’t here to care about any of it, was uncomfortably weird and awkward and… Pain caught in my chest.
I stuffed the bubble of grief down as hard as I could.
“These are our most popular caskets,” Elspeth said, waving her hand toward a line of wooden boxes. “You have traditional hardwood or eco-friendly repurposed wood. Though a lot of people tend to lean toward metal these days.”
I peered at all the options, wrinkling my nose.
Everything smelled faintly of lemon polish.
I hated it. And I hated imagining Grandad lying there.
“This is what you want us to bury him in? That one looks like it’s made of toothpicks!
” Lena gave me a look, but I didn’t care.
“If the pallbearer so much as wiggles, Grandad will come tumbling out.”
That thought was nauseating.
“I can confirm that has never once happened to any of our clients,” Elspeth said, her back going ramrod straight, the warm light that had been in her eyes earlier going cold.
“Your grandfather wasn’t one for putting on airs.
I never once saw him sneer at anyone for their choices, whatever they might be.
These are perfectly lovely options for some people. ”
I snorted. “Lovely?”
Elspeth bristled. “Not everyone has the means for frills when it comes to burying a loved one, but here at McCallister’s, we make sure to celebrate all lives,” she said, her jaw tense. “Because that is our duty to those who trust us with their final goodbye.”
“And it looks like you do a wonderful job,” Lena said, giving her an overly polite smile. “Agnes was singing your praises when we told her we were headed this way.”
I scowled at the wood like it had personally offended me. Lena pressed her hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples.
“We have other, pricier options if that’s more to your taste,” Elspeth said.
“Price was never an issue,” I grumbled. “Let’s move on. I want a solid hardwood. Grandad liked cherry.”
“This way,” Elspeth said, leading the way to another display of caskets. I trudged after her, but Lena snagged my arm, pulling me to a halt.
“Look,” she hissed. “I get that you’re upset, but the funeral director is being perfectly nice and just doing her job.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “But I’m not putting my grandad in a box that looks like it was pulled out of a dumpster behind Primark.”
“Weston,” she said. I was expecting her tone to be scolding, in the way it was when she thought I was being unreasonable.
But instead, it was surprisingly soft, full of compassion that I wasn’t sure I could handle.
My chest already ached as I thought about saying yes to one of these caskets, as I thought about laying Grandad in the ground forever.
If Lena was too gentle with me, I might fall apart completely.
“This was always going to be hard,” she added.
I pressed at the space between my ribs, then brushed by her, catching up with Elspeth. “That one,” I said immediately, spotting a polished, reddish-brown box.
The woman nodded. “Excellent choice. Now, if we can go over some of the details.” She opened a binder that said CELEbrATING LIFE on the cover. “Were you looking for a religious service or something more casual?”
I frowned. “Well, er, religious, I suppose.”
She made a note. “And should the service be at a church? Or here at the funeral home? Is there a preferred officiant?”
“I—” Her questions ricocheted around my mind. With each one, my pulse pounded harder in my chest. Bloody hell! I didn’t know these answers. Why didn’t I know them?
It suddenly felt like I’d barely known my Grandad at all.
“And of course, the most important question is the timing. We have availability to do the service in three days if that timing is to your liking?”
Three fucking days, and I didn’t know the necessary information to put him in the ground!
“Mr. Kincaid?”
“Hmm?”
“Any specific music requests? A hymn, perhaps.”
I opened my mouth, waiting for the answers to tumble out, but they never did. My stomach stirred unpleasantly, and I found myself chasing my next breath.
“Actually,” Lena said all of a sudden. She walked up, pulling a file from her purse. “I found some notes when I was going through Pete’s office. He left directions for his preferences.”
Elspeth held her hand out, her expression softening into a sad smile. “Yes, that sounds like Pete. Well, that makes everything easier.”
I released a heavy breath, glancing over at Lena, and I wondered suddenly what I would have done without her here.
For seven years, she’d been indispensable to me in more ways than I could count.
But here, dealing with this…I honestly didn’t know how I would have gotten through it without her.
And I certainly couldn’t imagine having anyone else here at my side as my wife.
She thought I’d chosen her out of convenience, but that wasn’t true.
I’d chosen her because I trusted her. Lena was someone I could truly rely on, and I knew how rare that was.
How valuable.
I could count on one hand the people I truly trusted to have my back—and with Grandad gone, that number had dropped from four to three.
“Weston?” Lena said, getting my attention. She stood directly in front of me now, brow furrowed in concern. “She’s going to review Pete’s notes and write up a funeral plan. She’s asked us to come back in an hour to finalize everything.”
“Fine,” I said, snapping back to myself.
“You okay?”
I checked my watch. “An hour gives us time to drop the wedding certificate at the solicitor’s. Let’s go.”
“Can you slow down?” Lena complained as we exited the solicitor’s office. “Don’t forget I’m nearly a foot shorter than you, and you walk like your shoes are on fire.”
“I want to get to the newspaper office before it closes,” I said, but I slowed anyway, matching her pace. She never had any trouble keeping up with me in Houston, but she wasn’t used to walking on cobblestones, and it was slowing her down.
“The meeting with the lawyer went better than I expected,” she commented.
“How’d you think it was going to go?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know; I expected more questions.”
A laugh caught me off guard. “They weren’t going to make you swear an oath that you married me of your own free will and without coercion.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “I know that. I just assumed—”
“What? That the man would stare into your soul and ask you to profess your undying love?”
Her lips twitched. “Maybe.”