Chapter 8
Most of the meeting with the funeral directors was exactly what Sylvie expected—some practical details and a bit of back-and-forth on finalizing a few items. Her mom had prepaid for most of it, but a couple of last-minute requests came with a higher cost.
Who knew there was so much to organize for a funeral?
She knew it was kind of a dumb question, but seriously—how much had changed in the almost seven years since her dad and Brett had died?
Then again, she hadn’t really been involved in those arrangements.
Fiona had made every decision about Brett’s side without consulting her or her mom, and her mom had just gone along with it to make the double funeral less of an ordeal.
Something about it still irked her. But now, sitting here and answering endless questions, she could see how her mom might have welcomed Fiona’s no-holds-barred decision-making.
Mr. Phillips cleared his throat, demanding her attention.
“Now, the cremation will proceed today as your mother requested. She completed nearly all parts of the planning booklet, but in the section for memorials, nothing was chosen or ruled out. I apologize that this was missed earlier, but we need to make a decision now, or there could be issues with the cemetery. I’ll leave you with this for a few moments. ”
“Oh,” Sylvie said, taking the pamphlet from Mr. Phillips. “Right. Sure.”
Her jaw tightened as her sister-in-law let out a long, pointed sigh. Is Fiona seriously groaning and complaining right now?
The spark of annoyance energized her briefly but faded fast. She was just so tired.
Scanning through the options, her eyes started to glaze over. There were too many to focus on a single one long enough to read the description. So, she glanced at Fiona next to her, catching an expectant look on her face. “Sorry, I—”
“Wasn’t listening?” Fiona finished for her. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” she replied, suppressing the urge to cover her face with her hands. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. I don’t even know why; it’s not like I’ve been running a marathon.”
“Sure you have,” Fiona said sharply. “Grief is exhausting. Don’t try to minimize it with your superior work ethic.”
Sylvie frowned, taken aback by the comment. My what? Lord, how does she make reassuring someone feel like a jibe? “I don’t…think that. I just wouldn’t expect to be this tired from existing. I just want a break from it all. Just for a few days.”
“Well, you could. It’s not like you have a child to look after.”
Wincing, Sylvie redirected her attention to the pamphlet. She had never discussed her complicated history of having children with Fiona, and she was pretty sure nothing could make her do it now. But surely someone had brought it up to her over the years?
“No,” she replied quietly. “But regardless of what the lawyers say tomorrow, I do still have to manage the inn. I know the whole business management thing isn’t really your—”
She’d only meant that Fiona had never run a business, so she wouldn’t be expected to know what went into it, but it was clear from Fiona’s expression that she had taken offense.
There really wasn’t anything she could say to Fiona that wouldn’t be taken as a barb.
“Did you really want her to be stored over at the cemetery?” Fiona asked. “That’s kind of far from the inn and…”
Sylvie resisted the urge to sigh as Fiona changed the subject. “Yeah. I don’t know. I mean, I guess I figured she expected me to put her urn with Dad’s. I don’t know why she would leave this blank. She chose so much else; why wouldn’t she have an opinion about this?”
Fiona shrugged. “Maybe she wanted you to do what worked for you. From everything she left behind, it seems to me like she just wanted to make it easy on you, not that she cared too much about the details.”
That was surprisingly insightful.
Sylvie nodded in agreement. “And who would’ve thought there were so many options?
I mean—urns, plaques, boxes, urns shaped like boats, urns shaped like butterflies, tiny urns to divide your loved ones into and share with other family members.
And some of these names…how are you even supposed to know what you’re ordering?
One’s just called Love, the one underneath it is Together Frame! What shape even is an Eternity Gem?”
She gave a small laugh and looked over at Fiona, only to pause at her sister-in-law’s expression. Alarmed, maybe. Or surprised. And sad, too.
“Did I say something wrong?” Sylvie asked gently, feeling like she very much had.
“It’s, um…not a shape,” Fiona said, raising her hand to the sparkling pendant that hung around her neck. “It’s a process.”
Confused, Sylvie put the pamphlet down and turned to face her. “A process of…?”
Fiona squeezed her eyes closed for a moment.
“They take some of the ashes, do something to the carbon in them, and press the result under extreme pressure to replicate what happens in nature when carbon turns into a diamond. Then they treat it like a regular diamond and set it into a piece of jewelry—like this.” She leaned forward awkwardly so Sylvie could get a better look, holding the necklace out without getting too close.
Sylvie’s breath caught as she took the pale green gemstone between her fingertips. “Is this Brett? The green is—”
“Just like his eyes,” Fiona finished, pulling away. “Yeah. Lilly and I both have one. I don’t wear mine so much anymore, but I thought he should be there today, you know? In some way.”
“Right. Yeah, that’s…”
“Weird? Probably. But I don’t really care,” Fiona snapped.
“Really lovely,” Sylvie corrected her gently. “I really like that. It’s beautiful.”
Fiona scoffed. “Well, I guess I figured you’d think it was… I don’t know. Obsessive or something.”
Sylvie shook her head. “No. In fact, I think that’s what I’m going to do. Get a regular old urn and put her next to Dad on their bookshelf but have a little piece of her with me.” She caught the look of surprise on Fiona’s face but didn’t comment on it as she turned back in her chair.
And then, a wild thought settled into her mind.
Maybe she could take her mom to the island from Femme de Force after all.