A Catered Birthday Party by Isis Crawford Read Free Book Online Page B

Bree chirped, “Look who I met walking up. Isn’t it sweet of the girls to come and pay their respects?”
    “I hope you don’t mind,” Libby said.
    “Mind?” Richard’s laugh at the absurdity of the notion was less than convincing. Bernie wondered if anyone there believed him as he continued. “Why should I mind? What a silly notion. It just never occurred to me that you’d be interested in coming.”
    “When we heard we just decided to come over,” Bernie told him. “If you’d like we can leave.”
    “No. No,” Richard said in an insincere-sounding voice. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re having a bite after the service. I know you girls are terribly busy and probably don’t have the time, but I know Annabel would have adored it if you could join us.”
    “We’d love to,” Libby and Bernie said in unison.
    “We brought some food,” Bernie said.
    Richard looked even unhappier, if that was possible.
    Libby took up the conversational baton. “It’s nothing much. Just some homemade bread, a couple of roast chickens, and a tossed salad. No one should have to cook at a time like this.”
    It was with great difficulty that Richard managed to get out the words “Great” and “You shouldn’t have” as he turned to the minister.
     
    “He was definitely not pleased,” Libby told her dad later.
    “Yeah,” Bernie said. “He expected us to take the hint and leave.”
    Sean smiled. “Well, given the circumstances, of course he wasn’t pleased to see you. If I were him, I wouldn’t be pleased to see you either.”
    “Neither were the other guests,” Libby recalled. “I got the feeling we were as welcome as a…a…”
    “Weevil in a cotton field?” Bernie suggested.
    Libby nodded. “Exactly.”
    “And no doubt for the same reason,” Sean said.
    “Which is?” Bernie asked.
    Sean smiled. “That you’re going to cause a lot of trouble and be hard to get rid of.”

Chapter 6
    L ibby and Bernie both agreed that the funeral itself was extremely brief. The phrase “pro forma” occurred to Bernie frequently. A small hole in the ground had already been dug by the time everyone had arrived. It was covered with a green mat, which reminded Bernie of cheap indoor/ outdoor carpet.
    The only thing cheaper than going this route, according to Marvin, was not having a service at all and scattering the ashes, a practice he pointed out that was both illegal and unsanitary. Libby was thinking about that when the funeral director and his assistant arrived bearing Annabel’s ashes in a dull-looking metal container.
    “Annabel would have wanted an urn from Tiffany at the very least,” Bernie whispered in Libby’s ear.
    “I don’t think Tiffany’s makes urns,” Libby whispered back.
    Bernie indicated the urn with a nod of her head. “Maybe not, but I think someone makes something better than that.”
    “According to Marvin, that urn is the bottom of the line,” Libby replied sotto voce.
    Then she fell quiet because the minister began to speak. The service consisted of the Lord’s Prayer and a few generic words out of Funeral 101 along the lines of “Annabel was a fine lady who will be missed, and she is no doubt going to a better place.” When he was done Joyce stepped forward and recited “Trees,” which she claimed was Annabel’s favorite poem—a claim Bernie was sure Annabel would have been mortified to hear if she had been there.
    Throughout the proceeding Libby watched Richard, who was fidgeting and could hardly hide his impatience with the whole thing. One thing was clear to both Bernie and Libby: he was definitely not prostrate with grief. In fact, Bernie said later that she’d seen people show more emotion over the loss of a favorite pen.
    No one else said anything after Joyce was finished except for Trudy, who barked at a passing squirrel. The people seemed disinterested and the dogs seemed restless and anxious to leave.
    Libby was reflecting that she hoped she had a better sendoff