Winter's Mourning

by Janice J. Richardson

  “Should we call Mr. Duncan?”

  “I don’t know,” Jennifer voice came just short of a whisper. She really didn’t know what to do.

  Ryan stepped in. “No, you don’t have to call Mr. Duncan unless the family sues, which I doubt they will do. When Mr. Whitney went on the offensive and criticized your choice of career, he was just being a bully. He knew his crew messed up. It was his responsibility. You didn’t break any laws, no one suffered irreparable bodily harm, except maybe Peter.”

  “How is Peter,” asked Marcia. “Did you check on him?”

  “No. I picked Angel up and took her to meet him.”

  As Althea entered the room, Ryan stood. Jennifer made the introductions. Ryan shook her hand and sat down. He was in no hurry to leave.

  “How are things?” asked Althea, her heavy accent made the word things sound like thinks.

  Marcia spoke up. “We had a bad day, Althea.”

  “How so?”

  Marcia told her the whole story. Detective Sergeant Gillespie settled back in his chair and folded his arms. Althea didn’t interrupt once.

  When Marcia finished, Althea looked at Ryan. “You were there too?”

  “No, no,” he said pleasantly, “not right away, not until after the ambulances left.” He chuckled.

  Althea started to laugh, until it evolved into full-blown merriment and howls. Ryan joined in. Jennifer and Marcia stared at the two of them, looking from one to another, the bewilderment written on their faces.

  A couple of time Althea attempted to speak, but the laughter took precedence. Wiping her eyes, she finally composed herself.

  “You girls, you so young,” she said. “It is not disaster. Dimitri, he tells you stories. Bill, he told stories. You laugh. It’s not end of the world. Peter though, he is OK?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Jennifer said miserably.

  “We have insurance for these things. Peter is young, he will bounce back,” said Althea.

  “Exactly,” said Ryan. He and Althea nodded at each other and smiled.

  Jennifer rose, wanting to make her escape. “I have to get back to Spencer’s.” She was starting to feel the effect of the emotional drain from the day’s events.

  “Wait, Jennifer” said Althea. “I will talk to Marcia later. I need to see you first.” Linking her arm in Jennifer’s Althea took her upstairs. She pulled a large brown envelope from the tote bag she had placed in the front office. “Dimitri will see you in two, three days. You will come?”

  “Where shall we meet?”

  “We meet at hospital. Dimitri has his own room now. OK?”

  “What time?” Jennifer tightened her grip on the envelope.

  “I text you. Now you go and relax. It is not the end of the world.” She patted Jennifer on the back gently, then turned to go back downstairs.

  Jennifer walked out to her car and drove straight to Spencer Funeral Home.

  After the day’s events it was a relief to be back. She wanted to hide. I wonder what Uncle Bill would have said about today? she mused. If he’s looking down now, is he sorry he left the funeral home to me?

  Elaine had left a note on Jennifer’s desk to tell her she’d hired a receptionist for Williams Funeral Home. Desta would be starting tomorrow morning. At least something went right today, she thought.

  The theme from Rocky startled her. It was Peter’s ringtone. I hope this isn’t bad news.

  “Hello, Peter? Angel?”

  “Hi Jennifer, it’s Angel. Just letting know what’s going on. Peter had an x-ray, then a CT scan of his foot. He has four metatarsal fractures and a fracture of the tibia, apparently as a result of him twisting too quickly. The surgeon is going to put pins in his foot. They’re waiting for a free operating room.”

  “Oh dear,” distress added extra weight to her words. She leaned back in her chair, twirling a stray strand of hair that escaped.

  “He is not in too much pain. They’ve given him drugs. He said you’re not to worry about him, he’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll ask Elaine to start the paperwork for the insurance company. Is there anything you need?”

  “No thanks. I’ll go home after he gets back from the recovery room.”

  “I can pick you up.”

  “No need. Peter’s mother is coming, she can run me back and forth. It’s not the first time Peter’s had surgery for broken bones. Irene said he gave her more than a few sleepless nights in his youth.”

  “Thanks for calling. All the staff is worried about him.”

  “I’ll call tomorrow morning. Bye.”

  Jennifer disconnected and then hit speed dial.

  Answering on the first ring, Marcia said, “how is Peter?” before Jennifer could even say hi.

  “Angel called.” Jennifer relayed the details of the pending surgery.

  “That’s awful. Just horrible.”

  “I do have some good news though. You have a new receptionist. She can start tomorrow.”

  “Wow, that is good news. Great news actually.”

  “Her name is Desta. She’ll be in at nine. I’ll fax over her resume. You and Althea will be more than pleased. Some more resumes came in today from funeral directors, so I’ll work on those this evening. What are you doing for dinner?”

  “Ryan and I are going out. Unless, of course, one of us gets a call for work.”

  “I can cover the evening for you.”

  “Awesome, thanks Jen. I’ll tell the answering service.”

  “Tomorrow is another day,” Jennifer said in her Scarlett O’Hara voice. “Enjoy your evening.” She tapped the off button on her phone.

  Jennifer glanced at her texts before pocketing her cell. Gwen, her good friend since their teens, had sent her a text earlier in the day asking if she was free to go shopping. She replied, apologizing for not getting back to her.

  Don’t apologize, Gwen responded. Know U R busy. We R all fine. Off to my daughter’s dance recital. Should B good 4 a few laughs. U OK?

  Perfect, Jennifer lied in her text back. She wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t down for the count either and she didn’t see the point of complaining about it. Have fun tonight!

  She pocketed her phone, picked up the tea cups and ran the hot water in the sink. For the first time since the graveside incident she felt grounded. The warm water and the bubbles soothed her frayed nerves. She took her time, enjoying the task and the peace and quiet. She was stiff and sore from the unexpected heavy lifting, getting the casket back to the funeral home. Tomorrow morning, once the new casket had been delivered, they’d be going back to the graveside again. She’d make sure they had help.

  After drying the cups, Jennifer went to her office to check the resumes that had come in. Both were from experienced directors. She decided to check their references before making contact them. An hour later she knew which candidate made the short list—Brent Vaughn. He’d been licensed for ten years, had excellent references, and his Board check was clean. She decided to call him in for an interview.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Brent speaking.”

  “Mr. Vaughn, Jennifer Spencer from Spencer Funeral Home. I’m calling about your application.”

  “Ms. Spencer, delighted to hear from you.”

  Jennifer liked his voice and tone. Things were looking up, perhaps with the hiring of Desta and the potential to hire Mr. Vaughn the day would end on a positive note.

  “Can you tell me a bit about yourself?”

  “Call me Brent,” he said pleasantly. “I’m 6’1” or 185 cm, 180 lbs or 81 kg, have brown eyes, brown hair. I like dogs and kids and I have two of each.”

  Jennifer chuckled and sat back in her chair. Brent was making the call easy for her with his gentle humour.

  “My wife and I want to get out of the city and settle near a town on a little plot of land. When I was a child I wanted to grow up to be a funeral director, my friends thought I was crazy and it would never happen. I proved them wrong. I couldn’t h
ave any career other than this one. Oh—my wife’s name is Julie and she’s a legal assistant. That’s about it or is that TMI?”

  “It’s perfect. Niagara is a great place to live and raise a family. Let me tell you about the position. William’s Funeral Home is currently under the supervision of me and my staff while the owner recovers from major surgery. We are in the process of hiring a director for him. We just hired a receptionist.”

  “Sound’s like you lost a few people?” said Brent warily.

  “More like fired a few. Dimitri, the owner, is ill. A few of his staff took advantage of his absence. We fired the director, who had been licensed less than a year. He’ll be facing the Board for disciplinary action. The receptionist had no training or skills. It was a train wreck. Dimitri would never have let it get to that state had he been well. He’s been the number one funeral home in the area for years and my goal is to get it back to that position for him with the right staff.”

  “Sound intriguing,” said Brent.

  “Are you able to come down for an interview? We could talk, you could explore the area, visit the falls, look at housing options.”

  “I would be delighted. I can get away anytime.”

  “What’s good for you?”

  “Tomorrow or the next day?” asked Brent.

  “Could we meet at William’s Funeral home at 10 a.m. the day after tomorrow?”

  “We could indeed. I look forward to it. Nice speaking with you Ms. Spencer.”

  “And you too, Brent. Have a good evening, see you soon.” They disconnected. She had a good feeling about him.

  She picked up the envelope Althea had given her, closed up the funeral home for the evening, and headed upstairs to her apartment. As usual, Grimsby sat waiting by the door, having heard her come up the stairs.

  “Hi, bud!” As she picked him up, he settled in her arms and purred. Dropping the envelope on the table she sat on the couch and released Grimsby, who wasn’t ready for his mistress to stop scratching behind his ears. She idly complied, mentally reviewing the events of the day, feeling the need to put it all behind her. The stress had taken away her appetite; she didn’t feel like dinner. Starting her bath, she relaxed in the bubbles until she felt her eyelids getting heavy. Sleep didn’t elude her, she barely remembered going to bed.

  3

  The phone jolted Jennifer awake the next morning. It was Anne, her twin sister.

  After the usual catching up about Anne’s work as a journalist in Ottawa, Jennifer told Anne about the graveside service. The usually reticent Anne exploded with laughter. Jennifer was a bit miffed, she didn’t see a speck of humour in the situation.

  “What’s funny about that?” she said crossly. Anne composed herself.

  “You and Marcia are taking yourselves far too seriously. I—”

  “It’s a serious business. What do you mean too seriously? The family lost someone they loved and you see the humour in it?”

  “You’re not listening. That is not what I said,” Anne responded calmly. “Losing someone is serious, grief is hard work. I am talking about you and Marcia and the events at the graveside. You can’t repair the world Jennifer. You did your best, it fell apart, it’s not your fault. Even if it was your fault, you’d own up to it. You have integrity.”

  “But—”

  “No but. The Detective and Althea have more life experience than you and Marcia. They see the humour in this situation because it is humorous. They see the sad in life, and the bad, and the horrible, and the unspeakable that goes on around them every day because life isn’t linear, nor is it fair. All I’m saying is don’t take yourself so seriously. I’ve said this to you before: you can’t change other people, you can only change yourself. Mr. Whitney on the other hand ...” Anne started to laugh again. “Mr. Whitney sounds like he needs an attitude adjustment.”

  Anne had a point. Jennifer knew she was right. She just wasn’t quite ready to admit it.

  “I gotta run,” said Jennifer. Anne would understand she wasn’t in the mood to continue the conversation.

  Over coffee, Jennifer thought about the events of the previous day. Peter had Angel’s mom and his mom, Marcia had found a friend (maybe more) in Ryan, Althea had Dimitri, Elaine had her husband, Gwen had her family. She wondered if she would have a partner some day. She knew she didn’t want children—she and Anne both felt the same way. The majority of the time she enjoyed being single, but once in a while, like today, she had doubts. What if she was injured on the job? Who would look after her? Would it be different if she had chosen another career?

  Her cat sat watching her from his favourite spot on the back of the couch. “Grimsby, there is no right or wrong to wanting to be alone, is there?”

  He ignored her. “All right Grimsby, I get it, I’m having a bit of a pity party and I need to snap out of it. Let’s see if Dimitri signed the management agreement.”

  The document felt a bit thick for a letter, she hadn’t noticed it earlier. Dimitri, as owner of Williams Funeral Home, was to have signed a letter giving Marcia and Jennifer full permission to manage his funeral home during his illness. There was a covering letter addressed to her and Anne and copied to their lawyer Mr. Duncan.

  It took a few minutes to take it all in. In his letter, Dimitri outlined the offer by the corporation that wanted to purchase his funeral home. He clearly stated his intent to refuse it. He mentioned that his heirs were not interested in a funeral home, leaving him with two choices: put the funeral home on the market or offer it to Jennifer and Anne. He was giving them first right of refusal.

  Jennifer was stunned. She sucked in her breath when she saw the asking price.

  I have to call Anne, she thought. Jennifer looked around for her phone. It was not under the paperwork. She rose, checked the last few places she had been and found it on the couch starting to work its way between the cushions. I have to stop putting it there, she told herself. One of these days it’ll disappear inside and I won’t hear it ring.

  Jennifer reached Anne’s voicemail. She left a detailed message about the offer and the meeting. If she was reading the financial statements correctly, Williams Funeral Home was making twice as much as Spencer’s. Her heart pounded with fear and anticipation. Could she and Anne come to an agreement? She wondered why Anne hadn’t mentioned it when they talked earlier.

  With two days to go before she had to make a decision about whether or not to accept Dimitri’s offer and interview Brent Vaughn, she decided to take a long walk before she opened the funeral home for the day. If I leave now I’ll have plenty of time to get back to the funeral home by nine, she thought as she headed to her car and drove to the falls.

  She found a parking spot in an empty lot on the parkway and walked towards the glorious rushing water. It was cold and blustery, the wind whipped her hair threatening to destroy her carefully crafted bun. Jennifer found it exhilarating. She stood at the railing listening to the roar of the falls, her eyes closed, revelling in the chill of the mist on her face.

  There were few tourists out and as she walked farther down the parkway she found herself alone. Claiming a bench, she sat down and considered her options. For over twenty minutes she mentally examined every inch of Dimitri’s offer and her own abilities to run one funeral home, let alone two.

  Checking the time, she started the long walk back to her car. The weather worsened: the wind had picked up, and the rain stung her face. She flipped up her hood, lost in thought.

  Approaching her vehicle in the empty parking lot, she thought she heard a cry and stopped to listen. It was like a keening. Must just be the wind, she surmised but it repeated. Jennifer looked around to see if an injured animal lay nearby. She didn’t see anything. She flipped her hood off and listened intently.

  She heard it again, then once more. Now oriented, she walked in the direction of the sound. As she got closer to the end of the parking lot, battling through the elements, she was shocked to see a young woman dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. The gir
l knelt on the ground near a tree, rocking back and forth, wailing and sobbing. Jennifer hesitated, quietly observing for a minute to assess the situation, then tentatively, she approached. The young woman didn’t notice her.

  “Excuse me, are you OK?”

  The girl continued to rock back and forth. Jennifer studied her closely, guessing she might be in her early twenties. Her long dark hair glistened in the wet. Her hazel eyes looked through Jennifer as Jen’s gaze calculated cheeks flushed with the cold, a red nose, and violent shivers. She seemed oblivious to the weather, her t-shirt and jeans were soaked through. Water ran down her face and arms in little rivets.

  “Do you need help?”

  No response.

  Jennifer moved up beside her carefully. “I’m Jennifer. It’s awfully cold, can I give you a lift somewhere?” The woman seemed unaware of Jennifer’s presence. Jen was stymied. She couldn’t leave the girl here in the driving rain.

  Removing her coat, Jennifer placed it gently around the girl’s thin shoulder’s and looked around. There was no one else to be seen.

  “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.” The young woman didn’t seem to mind that she was being helped to her to her feet. She didn’t look at the mud and grass clinging to her soggy clothing. As Jennifer tried to direct her to the car, the young girl turned back to the tree. Only then did Jennifer notice initials carved in the trunk. Pulling away from Jennifer, the girl sank back down onto the wet ground. Once again Jennifer tried to get her to come, placing her arm around frail shoulders in an attempt to lift the woman. Under her wet coat, Jennifer felt her shiver or tremble ... or both.

  “What’s your name?”

  Still no response.

  “Do you live in the Falls?”

  Silence.

  Jennifer worried about the girl. She also felt the chill from the wind and rain, her suit jacket now soaked through. She crouched down in front of the young woman whose eyes seemed empty, almost lifeless, as if her soul had left her body.

  “Should I call an ambulance?” Jennifer asked gently, hoping the question would garner a response. The situation was not resolving, it required action.