Final Arrangements Read Online Free PDF Page A

grim questioning completed, she
grabbed her large straw purse and set herself as best she could for
the ugly task ahead of bringing what little strength she had left
into the fray created by her father's death and her brother's
catastrophic moral failure. And wondered if any effort, of any
magnitude at all from this point forward, would ever be enough
again. In her heart, she was almost certain it wouldn't.

    Chapter 4

    The drive across town to Phil and Minda's
condo could have been worse, but for some unfathomable reason,
perhaps using the same logic by which he'd purchased the new roof,
a couple of months earlier, Dad had purchased a new vehicle, which
she'd decided to commandeer for the duration of her visit. The huge
luxury edition Suburban, dark blue in color and looking for all the
world like the sort of vehicle the SWAT team preferred, gave her
the feeling she was somehow insulated and isolated from the
typically frantic Valley traffic. There'd been a praise tape in the
dash and halfway through 'Majesty', while sitting in traffic on
Ventura Boulevard, the urge to pray was suddenly overwhelming.
    "I'm sorry I said I was angry with you,
Lord," she said aloud. "And I'm sorry for shouting at you to do
something, but I'm feeling kind of helpless at the moment ... and
small. Like something's been disconnected inside of me. There is so
much to do when there's a death in the family, and there's no
script for any of it. I guess I was counting on Phil to handle
things. Depending on my brother to make all the arrangements. But
now Phil's fallen off the wagon. Exactly what am I supposed to do
about it? Or about any of this?"
    Into her head popped an image of Stretch
Murphy. The man had about him such an air of assurance, of strength
and calm. The Pool Guy. Where was he now? In whose back yard,
cleaning what manner of pool? Interacting in what way from the many
choices doubtless presented to him as a man whose job it was to
enter dozens of peoples lives every week? People who needed their
messes cleaned up and had plenty of money to hire somebody to do it
for them. Who'd found Stretch Murphy to be their best choice from
the hundreds of choices available. Because they felt he brought
something to the job others lacked.
    Which was what? What did people look for in a
pool cleaner, anyway? She had to admit she had no idea. Honesty,
she supposed. In a city where robberies were as high as the daily
total of Big Macs consumed, this was important. The Pool Guy had a
key to everybody's back yard. So honesty was the primary criteria.
That, plus some sort of skill set involving the ability to keep the
pool from turning green. Perhaps the two items were related in some
fashion. Maybe there was a Zen to the whole process which led to
many word of mouth referrals, built a book of business any
entrepreneur would envy. His name is Stretch Murphy. Costs a
little extra, but you can trust him. He won't set you up to be
ripped off. And your water will never turn green. Stretch was
honest. Except for one thing. A tendency to invent bizarre
fantasies. Such as the one about her dad setting up an arranged
marriage. However, if not taken to extremes, the fantasy tendency
was probably harmless.
    She couldn't keep on pretending with him,
however. Leading him to believe she was seriously thinking it over.
That would be cruel. She'd simply tell him that since Dad had died,
the thing was null and void. The problem was, at the moment, if she
were totally honest, she had to admit Stretch was her only
available friend. She'd lost contact with her old girlfriends in
L.A. and hadn't made any new ones. Everybody she knew was now in
the Bay Area and were people she associated only with work.
    I need a friend , Shannon thought. Even if he spends his days cleaning other people's swimming
pools and inventing a fantasy to fit each person he comes into
contact with.
    It was settled then. He could be her friend
in this present crisis, and she could be his fantasy number