A New Attitude. Charlotte Hughes
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MORNING, MARILEE watched Josh step from the bus at the high school. He was alone, his back bowed, head down. His posture said it all. He didn’t fit in, never had. He paid a heavy price for being a minister’s son with a weight problem. He’d never had a girlfriend, never attended a school dance or social gathering, but if he were invited, Marilee was certain he wouldn’t go because he felt like an outcast. Marilee suffered as much as he did over it, but she kept quiet because Josh would have been embarrassed for her to know. But she knew. Mothers always knew. The only friends Josh had attended Chickpea Baptist, and she doubted he was spending much time there these days.
“Josh,” she called out, waving at him in the crowd.
He took one look at her and turned in the opposite direction.
Her heart sank. “Josh, wait!” She pushed through the throng of students, never letting her eyes off his blond head. She caught up with him outside the gym. “Josh, please wait!”
He turned and glared at her as kids shuffled past, tossing curious looks in their direction. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
His face was red. Marilee knew he didn’t like drawing attention to himself, preferring anonymity to being noticed and risking ridicule. She often wondered why kids were so cruel. And to think she’d considered ending her life, when Josh was so completely alone in the world. “I need to talk to you, honey.”
“I have class.”
“Just give me five minutes, Josh. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”
His eyes blazed. “Don’t you get it, Mom? I don’t want to talk to you. I want to be left alone.”
His look wrenched her heart. “I don’t deserve this, Josh.”
But he was already gone, lost among the crowd. Marilee stood there, frozen, feeling as though all the air had been sucked from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, and for a moment she thought she’d be sick. Her eyes smarted as she staggered toward her car. She was only vaguely aware of the stares she received from some of the students. Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t even think about it right now. The last thing she needed to do was arrive at her interview with swollen eyes.
She would cry later in the privacy of her room. In fact, she looked forward to it.
DENTON FUNERAL HOME was less than a mile from town, a massive, two-story colonial that housed the business in the basement and first floor, while the second floor served as an apartment for the family. When Irby Denton greeted Marilee on the wide porch, where ferns shuddered in the mid-September breeze, she saw that he’d changed very little since high school.
His hair was still fire-engine red, but his hairline had receded, and the laugh lines that bracketed his mouth were deeper. He wore the same mischievous look that had labeled him class clown and prankster as far back as kindergarten, where he’d swallowed one of Mrs. Finch’s goldfish, sending the young teacher into a frenzy and causing one girl to throw up on her new Mary Janes. His parents had been promptly summoned to the school, and he was given a three-day suspension. Upon his return, his desk was placed at the front of the class, near Mrs. Finch, who was perturbed that he’d botched her alphabetical seating arrangements.
“Marilee, you look as pretty as you did the day they crowned you homecoming queen,” Irby said, giving her a bear hug that she half feared would crack a rib. His wife, Debbie, stood beside him. They’d married right after graduation, and Marilee still recalled how the tongues had wagged when Debbie gave birth only eight months after their wedding night. Debbie’s mother had declared to family and friends that the child was premature, despite the fact the newborn had weighed more than eight pounds. The couple had gone on to have a total of four children, ranging from eighteen months to sixteen years old.
“You look wonderful,” Debbie said, a toddler propped on one hip. “You’re going to have to give me your beauty secrets.”
Marilee wondered if they were simply trying to soothe her wounded ego, now that Grady had publicly humiliated her. “Thank you. I don’t believe I’ve met the latest addition to the Denton family.”
Debbie looked proud. “This is Ben, named after Irby’s grandfather. We call him Bennie.”
“Nice to meet you, Bennie.” She tried to shake his hand playfully, but he pulled away and buried his face against Debbie’s breasts.
“He’s shy,” Debbie said. “And a little spoiled.”
“Come on in the house,” Irby said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Marilee followed, stepping over a toy car as she went. “No, thanks.”
Irby picked up the toy and handed it to his wife. “Honey, you’re going to have to tell David to keep his toys upstairs. I can’t have folks tripping over them when they come through the door.”
Debbie nodded wearily. “I’ve tried, Irby, believe me.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I know.” He looked at Marilee. “It’s not easy, a big family like ours living upstairs like we do, but it’s cheaper this way. We have the space, mind you, but the kids still wander downstairs from time to time. Debbie, would you watch the phones while I chat with Marilee for a bit?”
“Of course.”
Irby led Marilee through the reception area, passing several closed doors that she knew from experience were parlors designed for relatives to view their loved ones before burial. Antiques in dire need of polishing adorned the rooms.
“Here we are,” Irby said once they’d reached a paneled office. The furniture looked as though it had come from a garage sale. A computer sat on a battered credenza, the screen saver a scrolling marquee that read, People Are Dying to Come Here. “Have a seat, Marilee.”
“Thank you.” Marilee sat down and was met with what sounded like a giant fart. She leaped from the chair, and then frowned at the sight of a whoopee cushion. “Irby Denton, won’t you ever grow up!”
He looked surprised. “I swear I didn’t do it,” he said, rounding the desk and grabbing the cushion. He tossed it aside. “David, our ten-year-old, is obviously up to his old tricks.”
“And where do you suppose he learned them?” Marilee said, hands on hips.
Irby shrugged as though he hadn’t a clue. “I’ll tell you, the boy has no shame.” He looked remorseful despite one corner of his mouth tugging as though he would burst into laughter at the slightest provocation. “I should beat all of our children, but Debbie won’t permit it. That’s why they’re so spoiled.”
Marilee knew Irby wouldn’t beat a rug to rid it of dust. “Well, I hope I have no more surprises this morning.”
“I’m going to be on my best behavior.” He reclaimed his seat and shuffled through a mountain of papers on his desk. “I was…uh…sorry to hear about you and Grady. Debbie said I shouldn’t bring it up but if there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”
Marilee clenched her hands in her lap. “Thank you for your concern, Irby, but don’t worry.”
He cleared his throat. “This place is a mess,” he said, changing the subject abruptly. “My other assistant eloped two weeks ago, leaving me high and dry. Debbie and I haven’t had a chance to catch up with all the paperwork. You can’t imagine how thrilled I was when Leanne from the Job Service called to tell me you were interested in working here. Debbie and I both agree you’re perfect for the job.”
Marilee sat up straighter in her chair. “Um, Irby, before we go on, I’d like to know exactly what duties I’m to perform.”
Irby reached for an Atlanta Braves baseball cap and plopped it on his head. “Just seein’ that the place runs smoothly. Sometimes I might need you to fill in for me if I’m in the middle of something and can’t let go.”
“Fill in?” Her voice wavered.
“You