Love’s Game

The Funeral

I pulled the door open, the hinges groaning in the silence of the hallway. Chloe and Paige were tangled together on the welcome mat, their breathing heavy and synchronized.

"Get up," I whispered.

Chloe bolted upright, her hair a wild nest of curls. "What?”

Paige blinked, rubbing her eyes. "We didn’t want to leave you alone in there, An. Not for a second."

"You slept on a welcome mat," I said, my voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel.

"It's a very sturdy mat," Chloe grumbled, stretching her limbs. "Now, move. We need coffee, and you need to wash your face. You look like a ghost that’s seen another ghost."

"I feel like one," I replied.

***

The phone on the kitchen counter vibrated, skidding across the granite. Andrea answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Is this Andrea Parker? This is Sarah from the billing department at New York Presbyterian."

"Yes. What is it?"

"We are calling to inform you that the remaining balance of the surgical and recovery fund for Mrs. Mia Parker has been processed for a refund. Since the patient... passed... the unused portion of the advance is being returned to your account."

Andrea leaned against the counter, her knuckles white. "The whole amount?"

"Minus the initial administration fees. It should hit your account within the hour."

"Thank you," Andrea whispered. "Thank you so much."

She lowered the phone. Chloe was staring at her.

"Well? Don't leave us in suspense. Did they find a way to charge you for the air she breathed?"

"They refunded the recovery money," Andrea said.

Paige let out a small, shaky breath. "Oh, thank God. We were wondering how we were going to handle the arrangements. I mean, we have some savings, but a proper New York funeral isn't exactly cheap."

"It’s enough," Andrea said.

"What's the plan then?" Chloe asked. "Do we call the funeral home now?"

"I want it done fast," Andrea replied. "I can't have her sitting in a cold locker for a week. I want her to rest. Now. As soon as the law allows it."

"An, the paperwork takes time," Paige said softly.

"I don't care," Andrea snapped. "I just want her home."

"We'll make it happen," Chloe said, stepping forward to grip Andrea’s shoulder. "Whatever you want, we do it today."

***

The scent of damp earth and crushed stems hit me the moment I stepped into the shop. It usually felt like a sanctuary; today, it felt like a reminder of everything that withers.

"Not those," I told my assistant, pointing to a bunch of cream-colored roses. "They're too muted."

"These are the premium imports, Andrea," he replied.

"I don't care if they're from Mars. My grandmother hated cream. She said it looked like old teeth. I want the Casablanca lilies. The ones that look like fallen snow."

"We have a few bundles in the back, but they aren't fully open yet."

"Open them. Use the heat lamps.”

"And get the deep purple irises. The ones that look like royalty."

"The irises are out of season," he noted.

"Then find a supplier who has them," I instructed. "She deserves the finest. Every single petal has to be perfect."

"I'll get on it right away," he murmured.

I stared at the lilies, the stark white reflecting in the glass of the display case.

***

The organ swelled, the deep notes vibrating through the floorboards of the chapel. "Amazing Grace" filled the room, the melody weaving through the scent of a hundred lilies.

"I can't stop shaking," Paige whispered, clutching a lace handkerchief.

"Just breathe," Chloe replied, though her own voice was thick. "Look at the crowd. Everyone loved her."

"She was a lovingly soul," a woman in the front row whispered, glancing back at Andrea.

Andrea gaze fixed on the casket.

The lights dimmed, and a projector hummed to life, casting a flickering glow on the white wall. The first photo appeared: a young Mia, laughing in a sundress, her hair caught in a summer breeze.

"Look at that smile," Paige whispered. "She looks so young."

"She never really grew old," Andrea said. "Not in her heart."

The slideshow transitioned to a clip of Mia baking, flour dusted across her nose, lecturing a ten-year-old Andrea about the importance of folding in the chocolate chips.

*“Don’t stir it, Andrea! You’ll kill the air! Treat the batter like a sleeping baby!”* Mia’s voice echoed through the speakers.

A ripple of soft laughter moved through the pews, followed by a collective sigh of grief.

"She always did love her chocolate chips," Chloe whispered.

"Yes she did," Andrea replied with a smile.

The music shifted to a slow, haunting hymn. The Pastor stepped forward, his voice a steady drone that grounded the emotional chaos of the room.

"Mia Parker lived a life of quiet grace," the Pastor announced. "She taught us that the simplest acts of kindness are the loudest declarations of love."

"I hope she can hear us," Paige whispered.

"She can," Andrea said. "She's probably complaining that the music is too loud."

***

As the service ended, the guests began to filter toward the back of the chapel. Andrea stood by the entrance, her black dress absorbing the dim light.

"My deepest condolences, Andrea," Mr. Henderson said, shaking her hand. "Your grandmother was a pillar of the neighborhood."

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Henderson. It means a lot to us."

"She always spoke so highly of your shop. A real talent, that girl," he added with a smile.

"I learned from the best," Andrea replied.

Paige stepped in, offering a small, sad smile to the next guest. "Thank you for the flowers, Mrs. Gable. They're lovely."

"Only the best for Mia," the woman replied, patting Paige’s arm. "You girls are doing a wonderful job. She would be so proud of you."

Chloe leaned in toward Andrea, her voice a low murmur. "You're holding up better than I expected."

"I'm not holding up," Andrea whispered. "I'm just pretending."

"Well, you're a great actress," Chloe said. "But as soon as we get home, you're crashing. No more 'strong girl' act."

"I just want to go back to the shop," Andrea said.

"The shop can wait," Chloe countered. "The lilies are already there. Right now, you need a bed and a very long cry."

"I think I'm out of tears," Andrea said, looking at the empty casket.

"Trust me," Chloe replied. "You're not."