BREAKFAST WAS ON THE TABLE AND DENNIS WAS MUNCHING HIS way through a stack of blueberry pancakes when Joanna stumbled into the kitchen the next morning.
“Sorry to be a slugabed,” she said, dropping into the breakfast nook still wearing her nightgown and bathrobe.
“Robe day?” Butch asked.
Joanna nodded. “I left word for Kristin that I’d be there in time for a ten o’clock homicide briefing. I figure I can compensate for some of the extra hours I’ve worked this week by showing up late.”
“That maybe works for you, but Denny still needs to be at school on time.”
Butch brought over a cup of tea and a plate of pancakes. “You got home late.”
“I know. Sorry. Deb brought in the suspect from the Sun Sites homicide. When the interview was over, I sent out e-mails about this morning’s meeting. Time got away from me.”
“How come you never mentioned that Jenny’s coming home tonight?”
“I didn’t? I thought I had.”
“The only reason I know is that I called to see what her plans for the weekend were.”
“She called yesterday morning as I was on my way to Sierra Vista. Things got so crazy after that that it completely slipped my mind.”
“Anyway,” Butch said, “it’s a good thing she’s coming. It’ll be good for her to be here and be part of it—part of the funeral, I mean. Dying is an integral part of living, and our trying to keep her from facing that reality isn’t exactly fair to her.”
Joanna nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
She’d taken only a single bite of pancake, but now she put her fork and knife down on her plate. She’d been so busy that she’d barely thought about the funeral since walking out the door of the mortuary days earlier. Now it was back staring her in the face.
“Speaking of the funeral,” Butch said, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“What? I thought it was all handled.”
“I’m sure it is, but this is about after the funeral. I know you wanted the service itself to be private, and you’ll get no argument from me there—none. But George and your mother were prominent people here in town, Joey. Important people. In a way the whole community is grieving, and you need to give them a chance to do so, the same way letting Jenny come home is giving her a chance to grieve.”
“What are you saying?”
“Jim Bob called yesterday afternoon. As you know, he and George had been planning that big send-off barbecue for Jenny last weekend, and Jim Bob had already stocked up on beef brisket. He and Eva Lou proposed the idea of having a commemorative barbecue here tomorrow afternoon after the funeral.”
Jim Bob and Eva Lou Brady were Joanna’s first in-laws. Despite the fact that Butch was Joanna’s second husband, Jim Bob and Eva Lou had remained fixtures in the family—being actively involved grandparents in Dennis’s life just as they had been in Jenny’s. It was not at all surprising that they would offer to do such a kind thing, but it was more complication than Joanna could bear that morning. She was already shaking her head before Butch finished speaking.
“I can’t handle something like that,” she said. “It’s just not possible. I know my limits, and that’s a bridge too far. God knows how many people would come. How would we manage the cooking and the cleanup?”
“That’s the thing,” Butch said. “Jim Bob said he’d talked to Lieutenant Wilson up at the Bisbee Fire Department. He says he and a crew of guys will come out and help with cooking, setting up, cleaning up, and breaking down. All you have to do is show up. If you had opened up the funeral to all comers, I’ll bet five hundred people would have shown up. And maybe that many will come for this.”
“Five hundred? Are you kidding? Jim Bob doesn’t have that much beef brisket.”
“We can always get more beef brisket,” Butch said. “But listen to me, Joey. You’re a take-charge kind of girl, and I love you for that, but there are times when it’s important to let other people do for you, especially when doing so is better for the other people involved than it is for you. This is one of them.”
“Why?”
“In the first place, there’s an election coming up,” Butch said. “One of the things people like about you—and one of the reasons they elected you to public office—is that you’re a human being—a regular person. Your mom died. George died. You don’t need to be a superhero right now. You don’t need to conceal the fact that you’re grieving over losing two of the most important people in your life. And sharing that grief with the people around you—not just those closest to you but with the rest of the community as well—is going to make voters like you even more.”
“You’re saying we’re holding a memorial barbecue for Mom and George because it’ll be good for my election prospects?” Joanna asked.
“No,” Butch said with a grin. “Because it’ll be good for you, because it’ll give you a chance to see how much other people care. And we’re also holding it because your mother would have absolutely loved it. Eleanor always adored being the center of attention. This will give her one more chance to shine as the queen bee.”
“Are we going to have a party?” Denny asked. “A party for Grandma Eleanor and Grandpa George?”
“Not exactly a party,” Butch said. “More like a celebration in their honor.”
“Will there be balloons?”
“There can be,” Butch said with a shrug. “If you’d like Grandma Eleanor and Grandpa George to have balloons, balloons there will be. Hustle up, now. Go brush your teeth and get a move on or we’ll miss the bell.”
Dennis did as he was bidden without a word of protest.
Once he was gone, Joanna gave Butch a dubious look. “Why do I get the feeling that I’ve just been played?”
“Maybe you have,” he replied with a grin. “Just a little. Now let me give Bob and Marcie a call. They said that if more brisket was required, they’d be happy to drive to Tucson and pick it up.”