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Join “I always take my time choosing the evening meal,” Grace explained to Mrs. Finch, the wife of the head mortician at the Finch and Roberts Funeral Home. “You know how Gunther loves his roast beef. It has to have just the right amount of marbling or it might as well be shoe leather.” She gestured obviously and blinked as if there shouldn’t be any question in the butcher’s mind when it came to picking the perfect cut of beef for her husband. “Mr. Grimes knows the time I will arrive at his counter. I call him and give him plenty of notice, so there should be no excuse the proper cut should be ready for me.” Grace leaned over, smoothed her gray cotton skirt with flattened hands, and whispered to Mrs. Finch. “Melons are up from Florida. They are the best at this time of year. You know Gunther will only eat his melon if it’s two steps from ripeness.” She chuckled. “That’s how he describes it. Too ripe and into the garbage it goes.” Stricken suddenl ....