“I can’t believe how huge this meat tray is,” Amy said. “Where did you order it from? The Flintstones?”
“I got a really good deal,” Marj said.
“It would seriously feed a hundred people. Like if they ate just this meat alone, it would feed them.”
“There’s bread,” Lauren said. “Some cheap ass sent loaves of bread.”
Marj crossed her arms. “Hey, those are brioche buns from a bakery. That is not cheap ass bread. It is expensive ass bread.”
“Not meat tray expensive,” Joe
said. “Now we showed love and respect with that massive meat tray. All he meant to those people was some buns. That’s just sad.”
“What about the mini cheesecake sampler?” Liz asked. “Do you think they were cheap?”
Joe blinked. “No, that’s designer cheesecake. I saw it on a morning show. Whoever sent the cheesecakes may have us beat.”
“It’s not a contest,” Liz said.
“Of course it’s a contest. Whoever sent the most impressive tribute wins.”
“Wins what? He’s still gone.”
“I know that, but don’t you think his sons will consider that when they’re selling off companies? Like, oh those people really revered our dad, so we should keep his legacy going. Or, oh those sad cheap ass people who sent the bread can totally go on welfare.”
“Joe, you’re horrible,” Marj said.
“I’m glad to be of service. What about the olives and the pickles?”
Rebecca pondered. “Depends. If those are Dean and Deluca olives and pickles, they probably had to take out a second mortgage to pay for them. If they’re regular olives and pickles, I say downsize their asses.”
“Right. Now, the cheese?” Jenny asked.
“Only three kinds. Swiss, pepper jack and that bright orange chalky processed cheddar shit. They are so over,” Joe said decisively and they giggled.
Amy looked at me. “Before you wet your pants over how wrong it is to laugh right now, remember, this is a celebration of his life and also gallows humor is helpful at times like this.”
Joe cocked his head. “Nice pre-emptive strike. Is it rude to go for the open bar?”
Amy bit her lip. “My feeling is that if there’s an open bar after a funeral, it’s morally wrong to refuse it. It’s like dishonoring his memory. Let’s go.”
A few others stayed behind and spoke at what an inspiration Jack’s father was. The death was hard on everyone, and everyone handled it differently. Some used humor, some bottled their feelings away, yet, others grieved openly. Eventually, the others walked away to mingle with other people from the office. So it was just Marj and Britt.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Britt told her. “You’re the only thing keeping me from just crying and wailing like a moron.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry we have idiots at the office,” she said.
“They’re just dealing with grief the best way they know how. I know how much they respected and loved our new boss.”
The friends knocked back glasses of merlot and eating mountains of meat on brioche buns, deriding whichever division of the Fitzsimmons’ empire had sent the Lay’s potato chips. Jack and Charlie entered with Mr. James and a few other older men. They circulated from table to table, shaking hands and thanking people for coming. Britt overheard Jack say at least nine times, “It would have meant so much to Dad to have you here.” It was like his memorized go-to line for the stressful situation and her heart went out to him once again.
Chapter 8
She and Marj ate far too many small cheesecakes while they waited.
“Look, you have to spill about the boss’s son. I was trying to wait for details out of respect for where we are today but, you are legit killing me with the withholding. When did you get so good at secrecy? How long has this been going on? You said it happened on the night Kevin dumped you?”
“A few months,” she said.