The Cold Light of Mourning - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,6
wouldn’t miss it. I don’t suppose that you …”
“No, I wasn’t invited, but I will be doing the bridal party’s nails if you want to consider that a gift to the congregation.”
Mrs. Lloyd laughed good naturedly, stood up, patted down her skirt, and gave her finished nails a final blow. She gathered up her few belongings and prepared to leave the shop.
As she reached the door, she turned around and passed on one more observation.
“Why do you suppose it is that young people aren’t taking up bridge? You never see young people playing bridge anymore, do you? Well, cheerio. See you next week!”
With that, she was gone. Penny made a few notes on Mrs. Lloyd’s client card and began to set up for her next customer.
Three
Penny woke up early Friday morning to the sound of rolling thunder and heavy rain lashing against her bedroom window. Turning on her side and pulling the bedclothes up around her shoulders, she watched for a few moments as fat, lazy raindrops cascaded down the fogged windowpane. She sighed, stretched, pushed the covers off, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached around for her slippers. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking around the familiar room, with its sloping white ceiling, sketches and watercolours on the pale yellow walls, bookcases, and much-too-small closet. Still, it was home and it was hers.
As she made her morning cup of coffee she decided that before she threw herself into the day she’d have a decent breakfast so she put an egg on to boil and found a relatively fresh slice of whole wheat bread that would do for a piece of toast.
After finishing her breakfast with the morning paper for company, she opened the shop and did two rather impersonal manicures. When the second client had left, she flipped the shop sign to CLOSED, gathered up a few tools and bottles into a carrier bag, and fetched an umbrella from the small cupboard under the stairs. Closing the door behind her, she opened the umbrella and set off on the short walk to Wightman and Sons, where Philip would be waiting for her.
He greeted her on the step, and asked how she was holding up.
“Usually, I would take care of her nails as part of her hair and makeup, Penny, and if you want to change your mind, just give me the polish, and I’ll get on with it.”
“No, Philip, but thank you anyway,” Penny said as she shook the rain off her umbrella into the street. “This is something I can do for Emma, and I would like to.”
“That’s fine, then, Penny. She’s ready for you. Follow me.”
He led Penny through the premises, past the visitation room, to a small, white-tiled workroom at the rear of the building. Emma was lying on a stainless steel table, dressed in a tailored navy blue dress with white buttons. A crisp white sheet covered the lower half of her body, and her hands had been placed on top.
“In your own time, Penny,” Philip said.
Penny cautiously approached the table, looked carefully at Emma, and then turned to smile timidly at Philip.
“It’s a cliché, but it’s true … she really does look peaceful. You did a good job, if that’s the right thing to say.”
Philip brought a stool to the table and set it down beside a worktable covered with a green surgical-type cloth on which he had thoughtfully placed an empty glass, a bottle of water, and a box of tissues.
“You might find it easier to sit on this side,” he said, “do her left hand, and then take the chair and table around the other side of the table and do her right hand.”
Penny sat gingerly on the stool and looked expectantly at Philip. He nodded gently and said, “It’s up to you, Penny. I’ll stay with you while you work, or if you prefer, I’ll leave you alone with her.”
“I think I’ll do this on my own, Philip, thanks. Give me about half an hour.”
He nodded again and quietly left the room. Penny reached into her carrier bag and set out the contents on the worktable.
She reached for Emma’s hand, lifted it gently, and placed it on the small white towel she had brought with her. At the first touch of Emma’s cool, still hand, her eyes filled with tears. She knew those hands so well. She had seen them hand her an icy gin and tonic, make the most delicious biscuits, fit