Chapter 9 - THE LAST SERVICE
By the time I could walk three blocks without stopping, the investigation had become larger than my marriage. Several families had submitted receipts; the board had scheduled a full review; prosecutors were evaluating the financial records.
Thad continued to deny wrongdoing. Marisol acknowledged some transactions but disputed how they had been authorized. Their accounts would be tested against documents and witnesses, not resolved by whichever voice sounded most wounded.
Evelyn asked me to attend a meeting at Bromel & Sons before the building closed for renovations and an inventory. She wanted affected families to hear the interim restitution plan from her directly.
I hesitated. The chapel was where I had signed Ruth's service contract and where Thad first told me that I did not have to carry everything alone. I went because Nina planned to be there.
The chapel smelled of floor polish and the white lilies employees had always ordered too early. Twenty chairs formed a circle instead of rows. Evelyn sat with Nell on one side and the independent manager on the other.
Nina spoke about her parents. Ben apologized for failing to pursue his first report. One by one, people described bills and phone calls that seemed small until they were placed together.
Evelyn announced a verified-claims process run by outside administrators and funded initially from company reserves and recovered payments. She made no promises about amounts the records could not yet support.
“You entrusted us with your dead,” she said. “You were entitled to clear answers about your money and the places you reserved.” Nobody applauded. The room did not need applause.
Thad appeared in the side doorway near the end. His attorney followed him, saying they had come for a scheduled inventory appointment. The manager checked the calendar and confirmed that a supervised appointment was set for later that afternoon.
Thad looked around at the circle of families. For a second I saw the man who once found a chair for a widower. Then he accused Evelyn of destroying her grandfather's name.
Nina stood before anyone else could answer. “Your grandfather didn't charge me twice to bury my dad,” she said. Thad opened his mouth and closed it. The manager asked him to return for the appointment time.
He left through the same door. No guards rushed in, and no one made a speech. The last service in that room was a reckoning without music.
The divorce moved slowly, as divorces often do. Talia obtained complete disclosures, challenged Thad's proposed settlement, and helped me arrange for my belongings to be collected. I took Ruth's photographs, my notebooks, and the chipped green mug Evelyn had once given me.
I left the wedding album behind for later sorting. I could not yet decide whether keeping it would honor my past or give Thad another place to live in my home.
A month later, the board suspended the siblings' licenses pending final proceedings, citing the recordkeeping failures and the risk to families. Prosecutors filed charges related to the diverted payments and the identity documents used for Ruth's refund.
Each defendant would have a chance to contest them. I followed the developments, but I stopped treating every court date as the measure of whether I was safe.
Evelyn was well enough to visit my new apartment. She arrived with groceries and stayed only as long as her doctors recommended. We cooked soup slowly, passing the knife back and forth when one of us tired.
She asked whether I would stay in her life after the divorce. “You can choose,” she said. I told her I already had. Our family would need a different shape, but it was still ours.
Talia received an update about the threat messages. Investigators had identified the service used to send them, but the sender's identity had not yet been established. The anonymous package remained part of that inquiry.
I wanted an answer, yet I was learning not to let an unanswered question own every ordinary hour. That evening I opened the window and let the sound of children playing below fill the room.
After the meeting in the chapel, I remained to help stack chairs. Nina tried to take one from my hands, remembering the surgery, and I promised I was lifting only what my doctor had cleared.
We laughed for the first time without checking who might hear. Then she showed me where the company had marked the plot correction on the new map. A single line, carefully redrawn, carried years of relief.
Outside, Evelyn leaned on Nell's arm while employees locked the front doors. She did not know whether the funeral home would reopen under its old name.
She knew that wages had been paid for the month and that the claims process had begun. I saw how much strength it took to accept an unfinished answer when people wanted her to promise a perfect repair.
May you like
Before bed, I checked a message from Nina. The administrators had confirmed her family's claim. A refund was on its way, along with corrected documentation for both graves. She sent a photograph of the two markers beneath a clear sky.
Between them, someone had planted a small rosemary bush. I looked at the image for a long time, thinking about how much harm could fit inside one altered number, and how much care it took to set that number right.
