A New Attitude. Charlotte Hughes
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things too seriously around here, know what I mean?”
“That wasn’t funny, Irby. Nor was swallowing that goldfish.”
“That happened a long time ago, Marilee. I’ve matured since then. Okay, maybe not as much as I should have, but I promise I’ll be serious from now on.” He put on a pair of reading glasses, as if that in itself would do the trick. “The main thing you have to do is cover the phones and know where to find me in case I have a body run.”
“Body run?”
“That’s not exactly how we refer to it in front of our clients. The correct term is body removal, but it means the same thing.” He reached back and patted the computer. “You know how to operate one of these babies?”
Marilee nodded. “I worked in the church office long enough to learn the basics.”
“Many of our clients have already made funeral preparations, and it’s all listed right here, down to the last detail. We even have pictures on file so Debbie can copy their hair and makeup. We want them to look as natural as we can.” He rolled his eyes. “Some of the ladies make arrangements beforehand to have their regular hairdressers come in, if you can believe it. I’ve never understood that, but I go along with it anyway. I reckon I ought to order some blue rinse and put a salon chair back there, only we’d have to strap ‘em in. Know what I mean?”
Marilee chose to ignore the remark. She desperately needed the job. “Will I be expected to meet with the families?”
“Sometimes. This is a funny business. We have weeks where it’s slower’n molasses running down a cold stovepipe, other times I don’t know if I’m coming or going. But you won’t have any trouble. You’ve helped folks through bad times before.” He reached for a folder. “Our fees are listed according to the needs of individual families. You’ll want to study this so you’re prepared.”
Marilee took the folder and glanced through it, noting the various price options. “What do you do in the event someone can’t pay in advance?”
“I know this sounds harsh, Marilee, but I insist the families pay up front. It’s not like I can go dig up someone if the family can’t cough up the rest of the money. Although I’ve threatened to on a few occasions,” he muttered.
“Sometimes you’ll get family members who want to send off a loved one in high style, and you know just by looking at them that they can’t afford it. You need to try and talk ‘em down as far as costs. And they want to stick the craziest things in the coffin with the deceased. One woman had us put her husband’s portable TV set in with him because she said all he ever did while he was alive was watch television.” He grinned. “’Course, I had to cut off his legs to fit the damn thing in there with him.”
Ignore, ignore, ignore. “Um, Irby?”
“Yes?”
She shifted in her chair. “Do you get many young people?”
His look sobered instantly. “Not often, thank God. They’re tough. Debbie won’t go near them, seein’ as how we have kids and all.” He paused. “That’s why you can’t take things so seriously, Marilee.”
Marilee suddenly realized why Irby joked so much.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. “We have a questionnaire we ask our new clients to fill out. Usually their minister has already been contacted, but in cases where the deceased wasn’t a member of a church, we have a couple of clergy who fill in when necessary. You’ll need information for the obituary.” He paused. “You play the piano, don’t you?”
Marilee nodded, wondering what one had to do with the other. “My mother insisted that all young ladies should know how to play.”
“In some cases, the family decides to hold services in our small chapel. You could pick up extra money if you played for them. Anywhere from fifty to a hundred bucks.”
“That’s more than I made teaching piano lessons,” Marilee said.
“It’s entirely up to you, of course.” He clasped his hands together at the back of his neck. “So, what do you say? You want the job or not?”
Marilee was surprised. “Just like that?”
“You’re the perfect candidate. I can start you at eight dollars an hour, which is more than I was paying my last assistant.”
It wasn’t a lot of money but to Marilee, who’d done volunteer work for so long without receiving a penny, it sounded good. “I’d like to give it a try. I promise to do my best.”
“I never doubted it for a minute. Now, let me show you around.”
“Show me around?”
“You know, in case you need to use the ladies’ room while you’re here. You’ll definitely want to know where the bathrooms are located.”
Once again, Marilee followed Irby. They reentered the reception area, where Debbie was bouncing Bennie on her knee and talking on the phone. Irby explained Marilee’s job duties, and then led her to three individual parlors, one of which held an assortment of flowers.
“This is where Mr. Elmore’s family will be receiving visitors this evening,” he said.
“Dan Elmore, who used to own the Plaza Theater?”
“The very same. I wish I had a dime for every time he caught me trying to sneak into the theater for free.”
“He was up in age, wasn’t he?”
“Almost ninety. But fit as a fiddle till the very end.”
“How’d he die?”
“Fell off a ladder while painting his house. His wife went all to pieces.”
“I can imagine.”
“Said she had to go and hire a painter to finish the job.” He glanced around the room. “Yes sir, there’ll be quite a crowd tonight. That’s why I’m putting Dan in room A. It’s our largest parlor.” He showed her the other rooms, one of which was considerably smaller. “This one is used mostly for private funerals or for those who don’t have many friends.”
Marilee thought of mean old Esmerelda Cunningham.
“And this,” Irby said, opening a set of double doors, “is the casket room.”
Marilee wasn’t prepared, and she took a step back. “Oh my.”
“It’s okay,” Irby said, cupping her elbow gently. “This is not a very pleasant room, but there’ll be times you’ll have to escort a family in here so they can pick out something for the deceased. Some people are very particular and want to know everything, others will leave it up to us. Just think of it as picking out an automobile.”
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Marilee said. She pointed at a bronze-colored coffin. “That one’s nice.”
“That’s our Cadillac of coffins, so to speak,” Irby said, leading her over. “Naturally, we put the nicest ones up front, hoping our clients will choose the most expensive.” He grinned. “Pretty vulgar, huh? But hey, I’ve got four kids to raise. Let me show you the satin lining inside.” He lifted the top section.
Marilee glanced down and saw what looked like skeletal remains. She was only vaguely aware of the baseball cap and hideous smile. All the blood drained from her face, and she let out a scream. She raced from the room, praying her knees would not buckle beneath her, and slammed into Debbie, almost knocking her and Bennie over as she scrambled toward the front door.
“What in heaven’s name!” Debbie said.
“There’s a…dead person in that coffin,” Marilee cried.
“Damn that Irby,” Debbie said, her expression dark and menacing. “He’s gone too far this time.” She grabbed