David and Nate Fisher, the two brothers who ran Fisher & Diaz Funeral Home, were sitting with their new client, a forty-something woman whose face was red and puffy from weeping.
"Please don't worry about a thing," David said gently as he handed her a tissue. "We'll see to everything."
"It'll be perfect," assured Nate, the older brother, with practiced sincerity, even though his mind was a million miles away on the complicated problems that always seemed to plague his life.
The woman choked out another sob. "Th-thank you. My mother would have loved everything you're doing."
When the meeting was over, the Fishers were escorting the bereaved woman to the door, when all of a sudden she stopped and reached into her purse. "Oh, I almost forgot. Could you please make sure she's buried in this?" She held up necklace, a chain with a worn silver coin dangling from the end. "She always said she wanted to take this to the grave with her."
"Certainly," said David, holding out his hand for it. "It's very beautiful. I'm sure it looks lovely on her."
The woman shrugged, drying her tears. "I wouldn't know. She never wore it, and none of us kids were ever allowed to touch it. But she was always saying she wanted to be buried with it. It's even in her will." When David took the necklace, he felt a tingle run up his arm.
Nobody seemed to know what to say for a moment, and there was a long pause. David seemed particularly distracted, and Nate said, "Well! We'll make sure this gets where it belongs."
"Thank you," said the woman, walking out the front door into the Los Angeles sun.
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