The Tattered Thread

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The Tattered Thread Page 54

by B. A. Braxton

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Elaine wasn’t sure if she should go to Carl Kastenmeier’s wake or not. She hadn’t known him for very long and she certainly didn’t like him, but she liked and admired his son. So, for Silas’s sake, she put on her best black dress and called a cab out to the estate to take her to the service.

  When she arrived at the funeral home, she was surprised to find the parking lot fairly empty. Cameron was standing next to the limo, keeping himself busy by sipping a hot cup of coffee. As Elaine got out of the cab, he sat his cup down on a curb and removed his hat. He walked over to her and raised his hand in greeting.

  “You’re going to the old man’s send off?” he said. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Am I too early?”

  “Nope.”

  “I hope I’m not too late.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “Well, where is everybody?”

  “Silas is inside. I brought him.”

  “And Mrs. Kastenmeier?”

  “She didn’t come. The grande dame has to look over the new painter’s shoulder to make sure he’s doing everything right.”

  “And Vic’s with Tasia.”

  “Where he belongs, I might add. You’ll be happy to know that he made good on his promise to check into that rehab program. Tasia’s paying for everything.”

  “I hope Silas isn’t here alone.”

  “Alex and Marlon came, as did other company representatives. Katerina Waltke, the old man’s secretary, is the executrix of his will. I guess you could say her sense of duty drew her here. Reporters had a camera crew set up about an hour ago, but they’re all gone now. They could tell that there wasn’t much of a story going on here, and therefore didn’t want to waste their time. I’m afraid the news media has become preoccupied with Tasia. She’s the next icon they’ve targeted: she’s rich, she’s beautiful, and she’s so damned mysterious. Great press, huh?”

  “I guess.”

  “Once they figured out that she was a no-show, they packed up and left.

  “Some local politicians either sent expensive floral arrangements or showed their faces to garner support from the family,” he continued. “Heather Trumble was the only one who came because she didn’t have the sense to know she didn’t have to. Sam’s here, but that kiss ass wouldn’t miss an opportunity to make more brownie points, now would he?”

  “Man,” Elaine said as if she couldn’t believe it. “If you don’t live right, it catches up with you, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you going inside?”

  “Of course not.”

  “See you in a few minutes, then.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said as he waved her on.

  Inside the funeral home, Alex, Marlon, Katerina, Sam, and Heather stood together in the lobby. A few plant managers were with them. “Is Silas inside?” Elaine asked Heather.

  “Yes, and he’s so sad. Crying and everything.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Detective Connery stepped out of the viewing room, carrying a coat over his left arm. Oddly, the moment Marlon saw the detective, he started patting himself down as if he were trying to find something. “I’ve got it,” he said as those around him looked on inquisitively. “Here,” he declared, pulling a rumpled, plastic badge holder out from one of his pockets and then handing it to Connery. “I told you I had it. It had fallen under the seat of my car.”

  “Yes,” Connery said, his eyebrows rising as he held the badge holder up to the light. “This is yours, all right.”

  “It is,” he said proudly. “What else can I do to help you, Detective?”

  “Go home and get some rest,” was the only advice Connery could give him.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Elaine said, “I’d like to offer Silas my condolences.”

  As Elaine walked inside the viewing room, the first thing she noticed was Carl’s white face looking as solemn as ever in the open casket. Also obvious was how much Silas stood out, his being the only person sitting in one of the more than three hundred seats available. The size of the room made him seem even smaller.

  Elaine sat next to him and he acknowledged her by saying hello. “Not many people came,” he said.

  “Funerals are just too sad for some people.”

  “I guess. But that’s not why no one is here, is it?”

  “How are you holding up?” she asked him, and he shrugged.

  “Okay, I guess. I only wish mom was here.”

  “I know.”

  “I trust you, Elaine. Anybody can clean a house. What I need is a confidant. I want you to be my governess.”

  “But I’m not qualified.”

  “In my opinion, you’re more than qualified and exactly what I need.” He stared at her as if he meant that. “So, what do you say?”

  “All right. You know I’ll be here for you for as long as you need me.”

  “Well, that should be for a lifetime,” he said. “I hope Uncle Vic sobers up. I can’t run the business without him.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Elaine put her arm around him, rubbing his back. “I’ll leave now and give you time to grieve.”

  “Will you stay until the service is over? I want to go home with you, if you don’t mind.”

  She stared at him to let him know that her loyalty could never be questioned. “I’ll be right out in the lobby,” she said, and she could see him rest easier.

  Elaine got up and paused a moment to look at Carl lying in the elaborately handcrafted, mahogany casket. He was wearing an Armani three-piece suit, which was a gray, six-button double-breasted cashmere number with side vents and form-fitting shoulders. A lighter gray shirt and a silk tie exactly matched his incredibly sleek suit. The cap-toe leather lace-ups on his feet were the best money could buy. Every hair on his head was neatly in place, and his fingernails had recently been manicured and polished. One white lily lay across his chest, and that was too bad. It was almost a given that he’d rather be toting a spool of red thread to his grave, and the brighter, the better.

  When Elaine stepped out of the room, she found that those who’d been in the lobby had left already. She could’ve slipped out just as easily. But instead, she sat down in a wooden chair and stared out into the bright sunlight coming in through a small side window. It was open, and a gentle breeze touched her face as softly as a kiss.

  She wasn’t budging without Silas.

  ###

  Other books by B. A. Braxton:

  Pigeon Blood

  Cerulean Skies

  He’s Never Lied to Me Yet

  Thunderhead: Tales of Love, Honor, and Vengeance in the Historic American West, Books One, Two, and Three

  Please take a few minutes to write a review. It helps writers to get better, and makes our books more entertaining for you, too!

 


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