“Are you kidding? Men are fifty percent of the population. They may act grown-up in the business world, but inside every guy is a kid waiting to burst out.” Greg nodded to the front. “So there’s Taylor, but who’s the redheaded woman standing next to him?”
“Not sure, but she and that blonde were in my shop today. The blonde’s Gloria something.” I tried to remember the rest of the name on the credit card but I couldn’t. The overwhelming smell of the tons of lilies all around the chairs and aisle had my head pounding.
“Gloria March,” Greg filled in. “I talked to her a few days ago about the club’s finances. I thought she looked familiar.”
I pointed to another woman running down the aisle. “And that’s Ginny. She works with Jen at Linens and Loots. She really loves the club, too.”
“I guess some people enjoy their hobbies more than their jobs.” He looked at me. “Like you and investigating.”
“I’m not investigating anything,” I protested.
Greg turned my head toward his so he could see my face.
“Really, I’m not,” I pleaded with him, conscious of the people starting to sit around us. I suspected we only had one or two minutes left before Taylor would start the memorial.
“Then how do you know the names of some of the suspects?” Greg raised his eyebrows to emphasize the point.
“It’s a small town. I can’t help it that when I go shopping I meet new people. Or when people come into the shop, I check the name on the credit card before I hand back the plastic so I can use their name in closing.”
“You do that? I’m always taken aback when someone I don’t know calls me by my name. I’d rather just go by ‘sir’ or ‘kid’ or even ‘dude’.” Greg pointed to the front. “Looks like the service is about to begin.”
Taylor tapped on the microphone. “Folks, will you please take your seats? There’s plenty of room up here in the front. We won’t bite, I promise.”
The old joke got a few chuckles, but as I watched, all the seats were filled and the rest of the people stood in a semicircle around the chairs. When Taylor was certain everyone had settled, he pointed to the guy on the portable keyboard, and he started to play “Memories.” I heard people sniff around me. Me, I never loved the song, but it wasn’t my memorial, so I suffered through.
After the music had stopped, Taylor returned to the podium. “That was Kacey’s favorite song. I can’t tell you how many times we’d run the food booth at our events and she’d be humming that tune. For hours. It drove me crazy at times. Now I just wished I could hear her humming.”
He paused, looking at the notes in front of him. “Kacey Elizabeth Pope Austin was born in Nampa, Idaho, on . . .”
As I listened to Taylor read the obituary that had been published in the Examiner this week, I thought about how full of life the woman had been. Even the day I’d first met her at the food booth for the club, she had exuded energy. If Dustin Austin had a good side, it had been the women in his life. Both Sadie and Kacey were good people. Austin, not so much. As if my thoughts of him had made him materialize, the grieving widower walked slowly up the aisle to a seat at the front.
“Way to make an entrance,” I muttered to Amy, who now sat on my left side. She slapped my arm. I guess she was still in the poor Austin camp.
After a few more speakers talked about how much Kacey would be missed, the memorial seemed about to end with another song. But then Taylor stood, taking the microphone from the singer. “One more thing. There’s a collection jar on your way out. The group is setting up a Kacey Austin Memorial fund to help with club costs. Your donations in her name would be much appreciated by the board.” He handed the microphone back to the woman who’d been ready to sing and she stared at him, obviously uncomfortable with his blatant fund-raising plea in the middle of what should have been about Kacey and not him or the club. This time it was Amy’s turn to be outraged.
“That was totally tacky.” Amy didn’t whisper and her voice carried over several rows of chairs, causing people to turn to see who had spoken. Justin took her hand and shushed her.
We were the first row released by the ushers, who all wore T-shirts announcing them as part of the Coastal Geocache Club. As we walked past the collection jar, I was surprised to see a line of people using the table to write checks and donate. We just kept walking. When we reached the parking lot, Justin turned on Amy.
“Look, I know you don’t like Taylor, but wasn’t that a little out of line? You embarrassed all of us.” He looked over to me and Greg for support.
I shrugged. “I was thinking the same thing. I guess I just have a better filter.”
Greg burst out laughing. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head. “You have no filter. Amy just beat you to blurting out the obvious this time.” He looked at Justin. “Seriously, dude, you have to admit, the call for money was a bit crass.”