Real Bad Things(20)
“What kind of options do we have for . . .” Jane paused, not wanting to make the same mistake again of mentioning the remains, even though that’s what they were. “A simple burial.”
“Simple?” Diane shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Jane’s blood pressure spiked. But Chuck took the opening and proceeded to outline the mechanics, construction, and stylistic features of various caskets. Poor Chuck. She suspected he never got out and talked to normal people anymore. Unfortunately, he didn’t sell plain pine boxes. Not that Jane could get away with that.
“That’s super interesting, Chuck. But listen. We need the cheapest thing you got.”
“He deserves more than a cheap box.” The words shot out Diane’s mouth like gunfire.
Jane turned to her. “I’m happy to pay. But I’m not made of money.” Chuck typed away without taking his eyes off them. Probably transcribing every word they said, thinking he had some inside scoop for KMSM or the Maud Register or that Facebook group. Jane held up the laminated sheet. “The cheapest thing he has is still quite nice and quite expensive.” She cut her eyes at him.
He didn’t miss the opportunity for an upsell. “There’s a wonderful option from a company right here in Arkansas.” He shuffled through a drawer and pulled out a brochure. “Their caskets are made to look like fishing boats.” He turned to Diane while Jane looked on, stunned. “Was your husband an outdoorsman?”
“This one will do fine.” Jane pointed at the cheap option while Diane sank in her chair.
“Wonderful.” His tight shoulders belied his polite tone at Jane’s rebuttals. “And the body, would you like a closed casket?” Now that they’d agreed on an option, he didn’t look up from his calculator.
Diane clutched her purse and stared at Jane for an uncomfortable amount of time. Soon she started blinking back tears and turned her attention to Chuck, who clicked away. “An open casket’s not an option, thanks to my daughter.” She pushed herself out of the chair with one arm, leaving the chair to hobble awkwardly to one side and her to nearly trip in her rush to remove herself from the room. She would’ve done a fine job as an extra in Hollywood.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Jane eyed Chuck. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna want to see a skeleton, Chuck.”
He looked up, realized his mistake, and clutched at his polo. “I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s fine. You’ve got a script.” His face went ashen, and she regretted her words. Dark humor had always been her coping mechanism. “Sorry. It’s an honest mistake,” she said, returning her attention to the coffin catalog. “Really. Don’t worry about it.” Surely there were discounts available to people who needed to bury bones, not bodies. There’d be no need for blood drainage or formaldehyde. No organs to deal with.
Chuck looked to the door, as if questioning whether or not he should follow Diane and try to comfort her.
“She’s fine,” Jane reassured him. “She just needs some time alone.” She wasn’t about to let him get Diane alone and swindle her into some custom Razorback-embellished monstrosity with a lifetime guarantee. And she wasn’t about to turn over her last dime for a man who didn’t deserve more than a shallow grave.
“Golly.” She sniffled and wiped her dry eyes. She’d learned from the best. Might as well not let her skill set go to waste. “I didn’t realize how awful that sounds when you say it out loud, to think about him as nothing but bones.” But she’d thought about it. Many times over the years. And not without some sorrow. But not for him.
Attentive once again, Chuck pushed a box of tissues across the desk. She took one and blew her nose, even though she didn’t need to.
“Sorry. It’s hard. Accepting her forgiveness, though I’ve done her so wrong. But to have to handle the burial of the man who brought me so much pain? You don’t even know. No one knows.” Except Jason. She dabbed the tissue at nothing, head still lowered. “It’s a lot.”
Chuck kept repeating, “I know, I know.” She kept expecting him to call her honey. “I just can’t imagine what you’re going through. You know, despite what you might be hearing or reading, a lot of us are on your side and think he deserved it. I’m a God-fearing man, but I tell you what, I would have done the same.”
“You would have?” she asked. She hated how she craved that validation. That he’d deserved it because he was a bad man.
“Sounds like an open-and-shut case of self-defense, if you ask me.” He smiled but then added, “Course it didn’t help that you told everyone at the time you didn’t regret it and wished you’d done it sooner.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your support.” She’d been so stupid. A dumb teenager. Angry and scared. She crumpled her dry tissue in her lap. “Back to the coffin. It’s just a lot of money. I lost my job, of course. And my mom can’t afford it, and we don’t have any savings. And with my legal fees, I . . .” She waited for him to offer a discount, but he didn’t bite. “I think I should probably check out a few other places, Chuck. Just to be sure.”
Ten minutes later, she’d secured 15 percent off his services and a layaway plan for a pecan-colored coffin with brass flair. She could’ve done without the flair, but it wasn’t optional.