Chapter 3

The next morning, the black apron was draped over my kitchen chair.

Owen had brought it home.

Judith and Celeste sat at the table with menus, guest lists, and six date cards spread between them. Celeste was editing the menu for the first memorial dinner. Yesterday’s lilies crowded the sink.

No one had told me they were coming.

Judith pointed toward the coffeemaker. “The coffee’s cold.”

I didn’t move.

Owen stood at the counter in yesterday’s shirt. His tie was gone, and he looked exhausted.

“Mom wants to settle the remaining arrangements,” he said.

“So do I.”

I covered the menus with the funeral invoice.

“First, my name goes back on the online memorial and every thank-you card.”

Judith’s mouth tightened. “The funeral is over. Changing it now will make people think something happened.”

“Something did.”

“Robert has been buried for one day. Can you let him rest?”

Owen pulled out a chair. “Everyone knows you’re my wife. One missing name doesn’t change that.”

“You ordered them to remove it.”

His hand stopped on the chair.

“Second,” I continued, “your family reimburses the funeral expenses as promised. The funeral home needs another payment card by five Monday.”

Judith picked up the invoice. “I thought this was your contribution as a couple.”

“Owen said the family would repay me.”

“I said we’d handle it when Mom was ready,” Owen replied. “I didn’t mean the day after the funeral.”

“The funeral home is holding the account until five Monday. After that, the balance goes on my card.”

Judith pushed the invoice back. “Robert wouldn’t want his family fighting about money now.”

I looked at Owen. “Then pay it.”

“I need time to move money and check my available credit.”

“You have until five Monday.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t agree.

I pulled the six date cards from beneath the menus.

“Third, cancel the memorial dinners unless everyone shares the cost and the work.”

“We can’t cancel them,” Judith said. “Relatives already have the dates. Robert believed in keeping family together.”

“Then the family can prepare them together.”

“You’ve always handled these things. Changing that now will create more trouble.”

“I can manage the guests and menus,” Celeste offered.

Judith took her hand. “I knew I could depend on you.”

I waited for Owen.

“She knows Dad’s relatives and friends,” he said. “It makes sense for her to be involved.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t come. I said I won’t finance the dinners or do all the work.”

“Why does everything have to become an argument about who does more?” Owen asked. “We all lost Dad.”

“You’re planning six dinners. My name is on the bill, and everyone assumes I’ll do the work. This is about more than grief.”

Judith stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.

“Celeste knew Robert longer than you did. She knows what he liked and who mattered to him. We’ve done our best to include you since you married Owen.”

Celeste withdrew her hand. “Judith, maybe we should discuss this later.”

“No. Mara needs to understand that marrying Owen doesn’t erase everyone who came before her.”

I had never asked anyone to disappear.

I had asked my husband to acknowledge that I existed.

“Celeste will keep attending,” Owen said. “I’m not arguing about that again.”

“Fine.”

He looked surprised.

I gathered the invoice and date cards, then lifted the stained black apron from the chair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To deal with the orders in my name.”

“We’re not finished.”

“You’ve decided who will greet the guests, who will plan the menus, and who will represent the family. You can decide how to pay for it too.”

I left the apron in front of him.

At the funeral home, Aaron canceled all six dinners. The $12,800 balance fell to $7,100, but the $900 deposit was nonrefundable.

That loss was mine.

I signed the cancellation and restricted my card from any new charges. The existing balance remained authorized until five Monday afternoon.

After that, unless Owen provided another payment method, it would settle against my card.

When I returned home, four plastic crates of napkins, glasses, and silverware filled the dining room. Celeste was sorting memorial cards on the floor.

“The funeral home called,” Owen said. “You canceled everything.”

“Yes.”

“Mom cried for twenty minutes.”

I handed him the confirmation. “You owe the funeral home seventy-one hundred dollars.”

He didn’t look at it.

“The first dinner is still happening,” he said. “We’ll host it ourselves.”

Celeste rose. “Owen, maybe we should wait.”

“People already arranged their schedules.” He looked at me. “Twenty-eight relatives will be here Sunday. I told Mom you’d calm down by then.”