To wear with his gray suit, he’d found a blue tie with a conservative, muted pattern. It was too wide or too narrow, he didn’t know which. But at least it had no gravy stains. The suit trousers were too tight. He’d put on a couple of inches at the waist since college. But he managed to get them zipped up. Most of the time he’d be sitting behind the desk, and he hoped when he stood in greeting it wouldn’t be for long.
On Monday morning, there was Eli, sitting behind an elegant walnut desk that bore the plaque, “Luther Jackson Jr. – Funeral Director.”
Marcia Ellis sat opposite him in a prim, print dress. Behind her on a couch were her two small children, Lon and Janet, who were remarkably quiet, as if sitting in church.
She acted as if she were the one on trial. “I wasn’t there,” she said
