Best, First, and Last by Amy T. Matthews EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Amy T. Matthews
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Bonnie
Tucson, Arizona
After the funeral, everyone went home. And Bonnie Jenkins was left alone
in the big house on East Goldsmith Place, swimming about under the tenfoot ceilings like a minnow in an empty SeaWorld aquarium.
“I blame you for this,” she told her late husband, who was sitting
opposite her in the breakfast nook on this very early morning in March.
Bonnie had given up pretending to sleep and had headed downstairs for
coffee and toast in the watery predawn light. “If I’d still been in the old
house in Phoenix, I wouldn’t be lonely like this. I’d have my girls right
there on my doorstep.”
He didn’t answer her. The cherry wood box just sat there. She’d chosen
the cherry wood for his ashes because she’d been worried about breaking an
urn. She’d promised Junior that if he upped and died on her, then she was
going to carry him with her everywhere she went and talk his ear off. Even
if his ear was no longer there. “If you die, you’ll be coming to every choir
practice, every lady’s lunch, every shoe-shopping expedition,” she’d
threatened.
“You’re not in a choir.” He’d been unfazed.
“I’ll join one.” She’d been deadly serious. “I’ll make sure your afterlife is
anything but restful.”
And she was keeping that promise, which is why he was in a box on the
kitchen table, and not scattered to the four winds, like he wanted.
It had been a revelation to discover how many kinds of urns there were to
choose from, she thought as she stared at the cherry wood box. Times had
changed since she’d last lost a husband.
The funeral home had sent her a
link and when she’d clicked it open, she’d found a catalog of final resting
containers: marble and brass, stone and steel, even crystal. Junior’s
daughter, Holly, had favored skipping the urn since they were going to be
scattering him, but Bonnie wasn’t giving into the scattering so easily. Holly
was back in Vancouver with her polite Canadian husband and children, and
Bonnie was the one here in the empty house with what was left of Junior, so
she figured she had the final say.
Bonnie had settled on the polished cherry
wood box for him, which she’d had screwed shut, to make sure she didn’t
go spilling him everywhere. Particularly on nights when she’d had a couple
of drinks at the golf club bar.
Ugh, the golf club.
She was only living out here in the deserty foothills of the Santa Catalina
Mountains because of that stupid golf club. Junior had already bought the
house (or at least the idea of the house, off a plan) when she’d met him, and
he’d spent their courtship driving her out to the site to watch it go up,
promising her a perfect sun-splashed life, with a pool sparkling in the
courtyard and views of the mountains from every window. And a golf club
just over the back fence.
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