“That’s enough of that! It’s very green, and ostentatious. It doesn’t surprise me that her husband chose a place like that.”
“A place like what, may I ask? That is, if I’m not distracting you.”
“I can see marble, gilt moldings, a large cupola, and lots of people. It looks like some kind of fancy mausoleum.”
“So a cemetery, then?”
“No, this place is something different. I can’t describe it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Thomas took out his smartphone, did a quick search, and turned the screen around to face his father.
“Something like this?” he asked, pointing to the San Francisco Columbarium.
“Yes, exactly that! I found it!” Raymond exclaimed.
“Youfound it?”
“I’m telling you, Thomas, it isn’t normal to be so sensitive at your age.”
“One Loraine Court, that’s the address. Please, don’t thank me.”
“My eternal thanks. Happy?”
Thomas scrolled through the photos to make sure it was the right place. The Columbarium stood in the middle of a lush park surrounded by a number of grand buildings. The most impressive of them looked a bit like the Jefferson Memorial.
“This place is huge! How am I going to find Camille in the middle of all those people?” Raymond asked.
“What people?”
“It’s very strange. I can see it’s not a cemetery, but there’s definitely a crowd.”
Thomas swiped his finger across the screen, then stopped on a picture of the Columbarium that left him dumbfounded. Various wings extended from the central dome area, all of them filled with rooms that had tiny glass cabinets covering the walls. Each compartment contained one or more urns, as well as knickknacks, pictures, and other personal effects. Each one told the story of a life.
“There actually are a lot of people in your Columbarium,” Thomas confirmed. He showed the photo to his father.
“This is so stupid. I’ll never find her in there,” Raymond said.
“Don’t be such a pessimist. I know what to do.”
“What?” his father asked worriedly.
“We’ll just look her up on the Dignity Memorial website. It’ll tell us which building the funeral will be in. What was her last name?”
“Brrrttlll,” mumbled Raymond.
“What was that?”
“Brrrttlll,” he repeated.
“That’s not a name.”
“Bartel! It’s her husband’s name. Did you get it this time?”
“I’m telling you, Dad, it’s not normal to be so jealous at your age.”
Thomas went to the bedroom and put on the suit and tie. He then came out to show his father.
“Much better,” Raymond said approvingly. “But there’s still one problem. I haven’t seen any subway stations around here. No bus stops, either. And the taxi that brought us here already cost you a fortune. Do you think it would be too much to ask them to borrow their car again? And go brush your hair.”
