placed the rose in the pile. “I’d have preferred a lily, too.” He stepped aside and watched Kenneth Dearhorn place a rose on the casket, mumble a prayer, and step away. The President of the Western Division, Kurt Luzier, followed Kenneth. Sporting a dark suit and tie and dark glasses, he approached the casket and placed his own red rose on top of it. Behind him and the last one in line, stood Veronica’s father. Gripping the handle of his black cane, Mr. Austin hobbled forward. He placed the largest and darkest rose atop the mound of flowers.
One by one, the mourners dispersed, but Sean lagged behind in covert surveillance of Kenneth’s conversation with Mr. Austin and Mr. Luzier. He’d give anything just now for one of those high-tech eavesdropping devices he’d seen on the Internet. He wondered what lies Kenneth spoke in their ears. He didn’t doubt that Kenneth would do anything to secure his position as the next President of any Division. He loved power, just like his dead father.
Disappointed and downhearted, Sean ambled back to his car and waited until Mr. Austin was ready to call on him. Images of Rick’s well-dressed, motionless form pierced his mind. The mortician’s expertise made it possible for the funeral to be an open casket. It was hard to believe that just days ago, Rick’s face was unrecognizable.
He glanced down the hill at the flower-strewn casket, and observed the intimate way Kenneth held Mr. Austin’s elbow as he guided him back to his limousine. Kenneth’s hands tightened into fists. It still incensed Sean that Mr. Luzier chose Kenneth to give Rick’s eulogy. The way Kenneth pretended to mourn . . . hell, Kenneth didn’t know Rick at all. Not like he did. The tribute had been so generic, so common, and so impersonal; Kenneth could have pulled it from a handbook.
Rick deserved better.
The Brotherhood took responsibility for the grand funerals and interments of its members, insisting that employees were actually family. That’s what the name “Brotherhood” meant. They were brothers and sisters, by oath and loyalty. Well, that’s what they were led to believe.
Of all the coffins Sean saw emblazoned with The Brotherhood’s cross, his own great-grandfather’s had borne an extraordinary gold cross, not like Rick’s silver-embedded casket. When Sean’s great-grandfather died at the age of a hundred and one, The Brotherhood hired the area’s best-known caterers, and the grieving family members were handed rare orchids and exotic flowers to place atop the casket in lieu of red roses.
Sean rubbed his chin. He unlocked the driver’s side door when he heard Kenneth’s voice behind him.
“Hey,” Kenneth called from halfway up the sloped hill.
Sean sighed and looked over his shoulder. Kenneth approached with a smile on his face. Water droplets fell from the ends of his light brown hair.
“Why the long face, comrade?”
“It’s my friend’s funeral, Kenneth.”
Kenneth still grinned. “Mr. Austin is ready for you.”
Tense, Sean exhaled.
“No need to get nervous, Sean.” Kenneth slapped him on his shoulder. “It’s just a talk.”
Mr. Austin limped up the hill with the support of Mr. Luzier. A recent hip surgery forced Mr. Austin to rely on his cane as temporary support. Though frail, Mr. Austin could still invoke nervousness into any researcher.
Sean’s throat tightened as he waited for Veronica’s father to speak. Instead, the old man greeted Sean with a firm handshake.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Austin.”
“Any time of day during a funeral is not good.” Mr. Austin gazed at the sky. “But we need the rain.” He raked his fingers through his wavy dark hair. Sean noticed no signs of gray; parallel wrinkles banding his forehead being the only telltale on his face that signaled his age.
“Yes, sir,” Sean replied. “Much needed rain.”
“Oh, please, Sean. Call me Samuel when away from work.”
“Ahh, Samuel. Of course.” Sean nodded. I knew
One by one, the mourners dispersed, but Sean lagged behind in covert surveillance of Kenneth’s conversation with Mr. Austin and Mr. Luzier. He’d give anything just now for one of those high-tech eavesdropping devices he’d seen on the Internet. He wondered what lies Kenneth spoke in their ears. He didn’t doubt that Kenneth would do anything to secure his position as the next President of any Division. He loved power, just like his dead father.
Disappointed and downhearted, Sean ambled back to his car and waited until Mr. Austin was ready to call on him. Images of Rick’s well-dressed, motionless form pierced his mind. The mortician’s expertise made it possible for the funeral to be an open casket. It was hard to believe that just days ago, Rick’s face was unrecognizable.
He glanced down the hill at the flower-strewn casket, and observed the intimate way Kenneth held Mr. Austin’s elbow as he guided him back to his limousine. Kenneth’s hands tightened into fists. It still incensed Sean that Mr. Luzier chose Kenneth to give Rick’s eulogy. The way Kenneth pretended to mourn . . . hell, Kenneth didn’t know Rick at all. Not like he did. The tribute had been so generic, so common, and so impersonal; Kenneth could have pulled it from a handbook.
Rick deserved better.
The Brotherhood took responsibility for the grand funerals and interments of its members, insisting that employees were actually family. That’s what the name “Brotherhood” meant. They were brothers and sisters, by oath and loyalty. Well, that’s what they were led to believe.
Of all the coffins Sean saw emblazoned with The Brotherhood’s cross, his own great-grandfather’s had borne an extraordinary gold cross, not like Rick’s silver-embedded casket. When Sean’s great-grandfather died at the age of a hundred and one, The Brotherhood hired the area’s best-known caterers, and the grieving family members were handed rare orchids and exotic flowers to place atop the casket in lieu of red roses.
Sean rubbed his chin. He unlocked the driver’s side door when he heard Kenneth’s voice behind him.
“Hey,” Kenneth called from halfway up the sloped hill.
Sean sighed and looked over his shoulder. Kenneth approached with a smile on his face. Water droplets fell from the ends of his light brown hair.
“Why the long face, comrade?”
“It’s my friend’s funeral, Kenneth.”
Kenneth still grinned. “Mr. Austin is ready for you.”
Tense, Sean exhaled.
“No need to get nervous, Sean.” Kenneth slapped him on his shoulder. “It’s just a talk.”
Mr. Austin limped up the hill with the support of Mr. Luzier. A recent hip surgery forced Mr. Austin to rely on his cane as temporary support. Though frail, Mr. Austin could still invoke nervousness into any researcher.
Sean’s throat tightened as he waited for Veronica’s father to speak. Instead, the old man greeted Sean with a firm handshake.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Austin.”
“Any time of day during a funeral is not good.” Mr. Austin gazed at the sky. “But we need the rain.” He raked his fingers through his wavy dark hair. Sean noticed no signs of gray; parallel wrinkles banding his forehead being the only telltale on his face that signaled his age.
“Yes, sir,” Sean replied. “Much needed rain.”
“Oh, please, Sean. Call me Samuel when away from work.”
“Ahh, Samuel. Of course.” Sean nodded. I knew
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