THE FUNERAL PLANNER

Chapter 11 Part 3: Risk & Mitigation - The Stakes Keep Rising

Chapter 11 Part 3

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The next day, I take Siddhartha for a long walk along a dirt path through the forest. The day is full of contrasts; large white puffy clouds drift in and out of a bright, crisp blue sky. An exceptionally warm breeze drifts through near-empty tree branches, as colored leaves slip to the ground, announc­ing the birth of fall.

I pull the sealed envelope out of my pocket and stare at it. I hold it in my hand, thinking as we walk the path. Siddhartha finds an acorn and proudly carries it in her mouth, looking for someone to show it to. We pass a farm where an old thoroughbred named Romeo roams the field. Siddhartha runs up to Romeo and drops the acorn for him and barks as if to make her gift known to him. Then she runs up to me and sits right down at my feet. I pull a carrot from my pocket and give it to Sid. Sid gently takes it in her mouth, carries it over to Romeo and plops it down next to the acorn, then backs up and barks at Romeo again. Romeo bends down and eats the carrot. Satisfied, Siddhartha rejoins me on our walk, taking the lead once again, happy that all is well with her assorted flock.

All the while, I ponder my options. What are the risks, what are the rewards and what does my gut have to say about it? Sid and I reach a small knoll in the woods. Siddhartha leaps on top of the knoll and with a glance, offers me an invita­tion to join her.

I climb to the top, pet her and look around. “Sid, think Uncle Sam is here?” I ask. Siddhartha barks and a ray of sun­shine peeks through drifting clouds to land near my feet and Siddhartha’s paws. I smile. “Just checking.”

I hold the sealed envelope in the light. “What do you think?” The ray of light disappears for a long moment, and then just as suddenly it reappears even brighter than before. “Hmm. Interesting.” I re-pocket the envelope in my jacket.

“Come on, Sid. Let’s keep moving.” And then I look up at the sun and add, “Thanks, Uncle Sam. That’s what I thought.”

Richard serves drinks at the Eagle’s Nest while I stand en­grossed at the computer next to the register, checking the blog for updates and responses. “Hey, Richard, someone from Louisville wants to know about outer burial containers and grave liners. Can you take this one and I’ll cover for you?”

“Sure,” he says, adding, “fellow at the end of the bar wants a mug of hot tea. Can you take this to him?” Richard hands me the mug.

“Got it,” I say as we switch places. I carefully carry the tea to the end of the bar, only to discover Victor Winston qui­etly sitting there. I nearly drop the mug.

“Hi, Maddy,” he says, smiling smugly. “How are you doing?” “Victor. What...are you doing here?”

“I thought we should talk.”

“Well, I can’t talk. I’m working.”

“I’ll wait until you get off.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because...because I have to work after I finish...working,” I blurt out.

“Okay, well, when you have some time, let me know. Maybe during your break or something. I’ll be right here.” “That’s not a good idea, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because...because, I’m not going to have time for a really long time,” I sputter, exasperated, trying not to make a scene. “And I’m sure you have more important things to do than hang out in a bar on Clark Lake,” I whisper fervently.

“No. I have nowhere to go, so whenever...because, you know, the dead don’t have agendas. Or do they?” Victor turns to Wally sitting next to him. “What do you think? Do the dead have agendas?”