Chapter 2

Gail lived right next door, with just a wall between us. She was a single mother raising her daughter on her own while taking care of her bedridden, paralyzed mother. Between work and looking after the two of them, she was constantly run ragged. I often cooked extra and brought meals over to her place.

She would eat until she had grease all over her lips and say, "I'm the luckiest woman alive to have you as my neighbor, Bridget."

There was a tradition in our town. Once a parent turned 60, the children were expected to start making burial arrangements.

Three days ago, Doug's father and Gail's mother celebrated their birthdays on the same day. They had each ordered an urn from me, and we had agreed they would come pick them up today.

Every day after that, Gail had been watching me plane the wood. I never expected her to side with Trish and slander me.

As far as I knew, mine was the only shop in the area that sold real ebony urns. Everyone else used MDF. The stuff did not last. MDF rotted away to nothing within a few months of being buried.

Out of goodwill, I still tried to warn them. "A higher price tag doesn't always mean the product's better. Some sellers paint MDF black and pass it off as ebony."

Trish shot me a nasty look. "You're just bitter you lost our business, so now you're making things up."

Gail chimed right in, "An urn's supposed to last a hundred years. Of course, I want the best for my mom. Passing off plywood as ebony and you don't even feel bad about it? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.

"Come on, let's all go to Trish's cousin. I'm not giving her the chance to make dirty money off any of us."

A chill settled in my chest. If they thought my work was beneath them and wanted the premium option, then why was I even trying to stop them?

I thought the whole thing was over after that, but the next morning, Trish showed up again with Doug in tow. She marched through the door with her hands on her hips.

"Doug paid you a deposit. You need to give it back."

I was caught off guard. Doug had ordered a custom piece. He had wanted pine boughs and doves carved into the surface. The work was intricate, and it had taken me three full days to finish.

We had agreed upfront that deposits on custom orders were non-refundable. Now, they were here asking for it back.

Doug looked guilty. He would not meet my eyes. "Bridget, everyone knows you've been making dirty money. Just give me the refund."

I could only laugh bitterly to myself. Doug's grandparents had both been laid to rest in urns I made. Not only that, I had called in a friend who ran a funeral home to handle his family's arrangements, free of charge.

Doug and I had grown up together, after all. He used to trail after me everywhere as a kid, calling me his big sister.

I kept my expression hard. "I can't refund that."

Trish's voice exploded above me. "You won't refund us? Then this shop is done."

She grabbed an urn off the shelf and hurled it to the ground, then shouted at the people walking past on the street.

"Come see for yourselves! This woman is a crook! She plays the good neighbor while making dirty money off the dead! She sells plywood and calls it ebony, and now that we've caught her, she won't even give a refund! Don't any of you ever buy from her!"

People on the street stopped and started pointing.

"Disgusting! Using MDF to fake ebony for urns. She'll profit off anything, even the dead. The woman has no shame!"

"Everyone's got parents. She's got family too. How can she pull a scam like this on grieving people? How heartless can you be?"

"From now on, nobody in this town should buy from her, no matter who's holding a funeral. Steer clear of someone like that."

Most of the people cursing at me were neighbors I had known for years. I had always valued those ties. I only ever charged them for the cost of the wood and covered the cost of labor myself.

If someone passed suddenly, I would stay up through the night planing wood, even in the dead of winter at -4 degrees. I did it all so the departed could have a dignified send-off.

Yet all it took was a few careless words from Trish for every one of them to throw away years of goodwill and turn on me.