“Next of kin?" the social worker asks softly.
Joseph straightens. “I'll handle her arrangements."
Marcus lifts his head, eyes raw. “No. I will."
The social worker looks between them, reading weather. “We'll need a single point of contact."
“Me," Joseph says.
“Her husband," Marcus counters.
Nurse Nora steps in, a boundary in scrubs. “Mr. Hale, paperwork lists Mr. Cole as the secondary contact for Mrs. Lane. She told us he'd manage personal effects if… this."
Marcus's jaw tightens. “Effects. Not funerals."
Joseph's voice stays level. “You got your spectacle, Marcus. The cemetery, the tent, the ash on your shoes." He nods at the clear bag Nora sets on the chair. “These are her mother's things. I'm taking them. I'm taking what little is left that doesn't require your signature."
The s
