A New Attitude

“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 know, hose down a body, stick ‘em in the goozle and drain the good stuff. Sew a few eyelids closed.”

Marilee paled instantly. She covered her mouth.

“Hey, I’m just having fun with you, Marilee.” Irby looked concerned. “Are you okay, honey? You can’t take 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 Marilee’s hand. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s just a rubber skeleton.” Marilee was sobbing. Debbie shook her slightly. “It’s not real.”

“What?” Marilee realized she was hysterical.

“Irby Denton, get your sorry self in here right this minute!” Debbie shouted at the top of her lungs. “Marilee, sit down before you fall down.”

Marilee took a chair next to the front door in case she needed to make a quick getaway.

Irby appeared, looking sheepish. “Gee, Marilee, I’m sorry. I was just—”

“Just having a little fun, right?” Debbie snapped, causing Bennie to cry. “It’s not a damn bit funny, Irby, and I wouldn’t blame Marilee if she told you to shove the job up your behind.” She looked at Marilee. “Honey, do you need smelling salts?”

Marilee shook her head, feeling foolish now that she realized the skeleton wasn’t real. Nevertheless, it was a cruel trick on Irby’s part. She tossed him a menacing look.

“I should clobber you.”

“Go ahead and punch him,” Debbie said. “Lord knows he deserves it.” She tried to comfort the squalling child, even as she continued shouting at her husband. “This is a funeral home, not a playground!”

Irby looked contrite. “I promise it won’t happen again, Marilee. Do you still want the job?”

Marilee regarded him. He truly looked pitiful standing there. “I’ll take the job on a temporary basis, but if you try that sort of thing with me again you’ll be looking for a new assistant.”

Irby nodded, shamefaced. “How soon can you start?”

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