Scoop

Y
our parents died with smiles on their faces,” the coroner had told the Hazard siblings.

Hayden couldn’t help but replay his words as she watched the crowded grave-side service start to disperse. Her oldest brother, Mitch, looked like their father today, his wise, confident eyes greeting every person who wanted to shake his hand and console him.

Hayden didn’t want anyone consoling her, except her sister Mack. And Mack was busy distracting those curious minds who wanted to know exactly how their parents had died. Hayden still wasn’t sure she could explain it. And none of the Hazards were used to being around large groups of people without their clown makeup and costumes on.

“You just don’t see that often,” the coroner told the family when they all stood in a small, stale room. “Smiling, I mean. A lot of people die in hot tubs. You’d be surprised. Well, I mean,
you
wouldn’t, but the average person who’d never had someone die in a hot tub would be surprised. Anyway, people don’t die with smiles on their faces. Sure, there are some embalming tricks you can use, but rarely do you actually find people smiling upon death.”

Apparently, the smiling was quite a find for the young coroner, who didn’t look a day over Hayden’s twenty years, but the fact that her parents were smiling upon death had brought Hayden no comfort.

A longtime client of their family business, Mr. Stewart, made his way across the lush grass toward her. He was a bossy old man, and nosy too, but he did like clowns. And the Hazard Clowns made an appearance at every one of his company parties, not to mention all the birthdays of his
grandchildren and his great-grandchildren. He even surprised his wife once on their anniversary with clowns, and what a surprise it was. Mrs. Stewart wasn’t impressed, the Hazards exited promptly, leaving Mr. Stewart trying to explain why clowns were romantic.

“Hayden, I don’t know what to say.”

Hayden politely shook his hand. It was strange having a conversation with Mr. Stewart. Normally he was gooing and gushing and attempting to calm the children who were afraid of clowns. To Hayden, the high-pitched cadence he used when speaking with children always seemed as terrifying as the clowns themselves.

Mr. Stewarts sharp eyes narrowed, and he looked around before saying, “How, exactly, did your parents die?” He didn’t pause long. “There’s a lot of speculation, and I understand your need for privacy, but when you hide something like this, it only causes rumors to grow.”

What had grown, Hayden noticed, was the rather large mole on the tip of his long nose. She tried to keep direct eye contact, just like her parents had taught her. But it was inches from her face, as was his breath, which had actually made a woman at a barbecue pass out once.

Hayden didn’t know what to say to make him go away. The family had agreed not to divulge the details about how their parents had died, but she couldn’t afford to offend Mr. Stewart either. He was one of their biggest clients.

“Well, Mr. Stewart, there’s nothing to hide. It was an accident. They were on vacation—”

“You see, that’s the strange thing,” Mr. Stewart said. “I’ve known your parents twenty years, and I’ve never known them to go on vacation before.”

Hayden nodded. It was true. Their first … and last … vacation. Percy and Lucy Hazard decided to go while their youngest two children were away at clown school. Hayden, the third youngest, worked double-time to keep up with the office work while they were gone. Just an hour or so
before the accident, they’d even called to say what a good time they were having. “Gotta go!” Dad had said. “Mom wants to go down to that heart-shaped hot tub again!”

“So?” Mr. Stewart urged, his beady eyes fierce while he held her hand like it was a baby bird.

Hayden glanced around. Nobody else who could help seemed to be nearby. Hank, her quiet older brother, loitered alone by a tree. Her sister Cassie was making a scene by the coffin, blotting tears and hugging anyone’s neck that would let her. The youngest Hazards, Avery and Holt, looked like small children, wide-eyed and clinging to Mitch’s wife, Claire. Where was Mack? Hayden wondered.

“I’m a trusted friend,” Mr. Stewart said, in a not-so-friendly voice.

“I know.” She just wanted Mr. Stewart to go and the service to end so she could be back at home, curled up in her bed, crying.

“Hayden,” he said, his voice rising to that terrifying cadence that unsettled her nerves along with every kid under six. “You know I can be discreet. Your parents were good friends, that’s all.”

Hayden couldn’t stand it anymore. Everything was about to spill out when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Right beside her, out of nowhere, Mack was there. “Mr. Stewart,” Mack said, “I’m sorry, but we have to go. We’re having a family meeting.”

“A family meeting?” Hayden asked. “About what?”