She looks up from her mug of lukewarm coffee at the sound of the hanging door bell. A young man steps inside the crowded deli, letting the handle of the door close against his lean lower back. He scans the room, blue eyes squinting as he searches for her. She sits back in the plastic chair, pushes away from the chipboard table, and waves at him.
“Ian,” she calls.
He makes his way over to her, reaching up to push back a lock of thick blonde hair as he dodges customers.
“You said you’d be here at 11,” she scolds as he approaches her table. “I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes."
He takes the chair across from her, grinning as he sits down and stretches his long legs underneath the table. “Sorry, sis.”
“I’m trusting you with something very important, Ian, and if you can’t even show up when – .“
“I said I’m sorry,” he interrupts her, gently nudging her shin with his foot.
Her face softens. "Alright. But seriously, this is a big responsibility.”
“Okay,” she says, with one last look of skepticism. “I’m headed to Santa Fe in a couple hours so Mike and I can get an early start in the morning. Hopefully we’ll miss the worst of the traffic and get to Park City tomorrow evening.”
“And the service is at 9, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, 9 o’clock Wednesday morning. But we should get there early to help set up.”
“Got it.” He picks up the crumpled napkin that she'd used to wipe down the table before sitting down.
She watches him juggle it in his hands. “That’s a day and a half for you to get everything together and be in Park City by tomorrow night,” she says.
“You’re sure that’s enough time for you?” she asks. Her mouth curls up slightly. “We both know that you move at the pace of a half-dead sloth.”
He chuckles and tosses the napkin ball at her. “Trust, Libby. It’s not that difficult of a thing to do.”
“And you know which suit to get, right? Mom laid it out on the rocking chair.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And the paperwork? You’re comfortable with getting it all together when you get to the funeral home?”
“Call me if there are any issues, okay? Don’t call Mom.”
They sit in silence for a moment. She looks around the room, twirling the small diamond ring on her finger. He picks at an old mug ring on the table.
“Do you think about him?” she asks suddenly. “Like all the time?”
“Yeah. All the time.”
Another moment of silence passes between them.
She hooks her dark blonde hair behind an ear and stands up. “I should be going.”
“Okay.” He stands up too and steps to hug her.
“Call me if you have any trouble,” she said, pressing her cheek against his chest.
“I know. I’ll see you there, alright?”
“Alright.” She pulls away. “Don’t be late.”