system as the director took Jack, Stuart and Leo into the showroom. The director was a young man in a conservative black suit, dark hair cut short, and an appropriately somber demeanor. Leo wondered if all this death he dealt with every day gave him that expression, or if he'd gotten the job because he looked melancholy by nature.
Jack had only vaguely remembered Stuart when Leo came to pick him up, but to Stuart it hardly seemed to matter. He was often that way, Leo thought -- if you didn't remember him, he'd make sure you would the next time, and if you didn't know him he'd make you feel like you always had. It was a particular magic Leo had never mastered, but still didn't envy. It must be exhausting, he thought, to always be memorable.
And now Stuart was busy making an impression on the funeral director as he took Jack to the higher quality caskets and made it clear that he was willing to haggle on Jack's behalf. Jack still had the shell-shocked look he'd had since Saturday, so he didn't question Stuart's presence and Leo let Stuart do what Stuart did best.
Leo wandered to back of the showroom while Stuart and the funeral director discussed things like types of wood and velvet versus satin and whether the dearly departed had had any favorite hymns or classical pieces he would have liked played during the viewing, and had a look at the flower arrangements on display. Lilies predominated, of course, and there were blood-red roses and creamy white orchids as well. Leo frowned, trying to remember Malcolm's favorite flower. Malcolm had always seemed partial to smaller, less showy flowers, the ferns and snowberry shrubs that thrived in the damp climate and the honeysuckle vines Malcolm had encouraged to climb up the back of the house.
"Lilies of the valley," Jack said softly beside him, and Leo looked up. "Malcolm. He liked lilies of the valley. He liked wildflowers, too. You know what would have made him happiest, though?"
"Redwood," Leo said. "Especially if it still smelled like the forest."
Jack nodded and trailed his fingers over the waxy petals of a lily. "Should I ask people not to send flowers? Make donations somewhere instead? I don't know where I'd ask them to send them, though. Malcolm didn't have a favorite charity."
"Anything to do with theater would be suitable."
"Jack," Stuart called to them and they both turned. "What are your thoughts on music?"
"Malcolm liked jazz and blues," Jack said. "Sad songs, a lot of them, but I don't know what would be appropriate for a funeral. And Mozart. He liked Mozart."
The funeral director said, "We have a wide selection of classical pieces."
"We have a music expert in our midst," said Stuart. "Leo? What do you think?"
"I'd have to get out some CDs," said Leo. "I can't rattle the titles of classical music off the top of my head. Mostly I have to hum a few bars."
Stuart said to the director, "An instrumental of the Bach-Gounod 'Ave Maria' might be a good place to start."
Jack said, "Malcolm wasn't Catholic."
"No," said Stuart, "but it's a familiar piece to many people, even if they don't know what it's called, and therefore soothing. I had it played at my mother's funeral and it was well-received."
Jack shrugged. "If you think it would work."
"We can go to my place after this," Leo told him. "I'm sure I've got a copy somewhere and you can give it a listen."
Jack nodded slowly as Stuart and the director resumed discussing practicalities. "You know what's funny about this? Or sad, I can't decide. I asked Malcolm to make a funeral plan not long ago, when he made his will. He said it would be years before he died and I shouldn't worry about it."
Leo patted his back. "We all thought it would be years and years." He kept his hand hovering over Jack's back, expecting another outburst, but Jack nodded and looked at the flowers again.
"Do you think we could get wildflowers?"
"At this time of year? I bet they're everywhere."
"Because I don't want anything heavy. I don't
Jack had only vaguely remembered Stuart when Leo came to pick him up, but to Stuart it hardly seemed to matter. He was often that way, Leo thought -- if you didn't remember him, he'd make sure you would the next time, and if you didn't know him he'd make you feel like you always had. It was a particular magic Leo had never mastered, but still didn't envy. It must be exhausting, he thought, to always be memorable.
And now Stuart was busy making an impression on the funeral director as he took Jack to the higher quality caskets and made it clear that he was willing to haggle on Jack's behalf. Jack still had the shell-shocked look he'd had since Saturday, so he didn't question Stuart's presence and Leo let Stuart do what Stuart did best.
Leo wandered to back of the showroom while Stuart and the funeral director discussed things like types of wood and velvet versus satin and whether the dearly departed had had any favorite hymns or classical pieces he would have liked played during the viewing, and had a look at the flower arrangements on display. Lilies predominated, of course, and there were blood-red roses and creamy white orchids as well. Leo frowned, trying to remember Malcolm's favorite flower. Malcolm had always seemed partial to smaller, less showy flowers, the ferns and snowberry shrubs that thrived in the damp climate and the honeysuckle vines Malcolm had encouraged to climb up the back of the house.
"Lilies of the valley," Jack said softly beside him, and Leo looked up. "Malcolm. He liked lilies of the valley. He liked wildflowers, too. You know what would have made him happiest, though?"
"Redwood," Leo said. "Especially if it still smelled like the forest."
Jack nodded and trailed his fingers over the waxy petals of a lily. "Should I ask people not to send flowers? Make donations somewhere instead? I don't know where I'd ask them to send them, though. Malcolm didn't have a favorite charity."
"Anything to do with theater would be suitable."
"Jack," Stuart called to them and they both turned. "What are your thoughts on music?"
"Malcolm liked jazz and blues," Jack said. "Sad songs, a lot of them, but I don't know what would be appropriate for a funeral. And Mozart. He liked Mozart."
The funeral director said, "We have a wide selection of classical pieces."
"We have a music expert in our midst," said Stuart. "Leo? What do you think?"
"I'd have to get out some CDs," said Leo. "I can't rattle the titles of classical music off the top of my head. Mostly I have to hum a few bars."
Stuart said to the director, "An instrumental of the Bach-Gounod 'Ave Maria' might be a good place to start."
Jack said, "Malcolm wasn't Catholic."
"No," said Stuart, "but it's a familiar piece to many people, even if they don't know what it's called, and therefore soothing. I had it played at my mother's funeral and it was well-received."
Jack shrugged. "If you think it would work."
"We can go to my place after this," Leo told him. "I'm sure I've got a copy somewhere and you can give it a listen."
Jack nodded slowly as Stuart and the director resumed discussing practicalities. "You know what's funny about this? Or sad, I can't decide. I asked Malcolm to make a funeral plan not long ago, when he made his will. He said it would be years before he died and I shouldn't worry about it."
Leo patted his back. "We all thought it would be years and years." He kept his hand hovering over Jack's back, expecting another outburst, but Jack nodded and looked at the flowers again.
"Do you think we could get wildflowers?"
"At this time of year? I bet they're everywhere."
"Because I don't want anything heavy. I don't
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