A New Attitude Page 7

Marilee laughed as she pulled the candelabra from her back seat. “Naturally, she insisted we take the candelabra after all. She doesn’t want to look bad to her friends.”

  “What friends?” Winnie muttered.

  “Did she apologize for what she said about you?” Ruby asked.

  “What do you think?” Marilee presented the candelabra to Clara. “I trust you’ll see that this gets into the right hands.”

  “Yes, of course.” She put it in her car.

  “By the way, my next-door neighbor happens to be partners with Bobby Benson, and he has offered to take a look at Blessing Home. If he agrees to patch the roof, we’ll have to come up with the money.”

  “How do we know he won’t walk off the job like Bobby?” Ruby asked. “And how much is he thinking of charging us?” As committee treasurer, she was tightfisted when it came to doling out money.

  “He’s going to let me know,” Marilee said. “I think that with the benefit luncheon and cookbook sales we should be able to cover it.”

  “There’s a lot more to be done,” Clara said. “We’re going to have to put our heads together and come up with more moneymaking schemes.”

  Ruby looked thoughtful. “How about a white elephant sale?”

  “That might work,” Clara said. “What do you think, Marilee?”

  Marilee sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Have you lost interest in this project?” Clara asked.

  Marilee was beginning to wish she’d never gotten involved, but she couldn’t let them down again. “Of course not. It’s just—”

  “She’s got a lot on her mind,” Ruby said. “And rightfully so. Honey, Clara and I need to take on more responsibility, what with all that’s happened. And we need to get our other volunteers off their behinds.”

  Clara gave a harrumph. “What volunteers? They’ve all dropped out.”

  “Let me see what Mr. Brewer has to say, once he takes a look at the place,” Marilee told them.

  Winnie started for the house, and then paused. “I have a four-thirty appointment at the clinic tomorrow. I go every three weeks for my prenatal exam.”

  “I can drive you,” Marilee said.

  Clara smiled at Winnie. “Are you all settled in, dear?”

  “For the time being. But I only plan on hanging around for a couple of days. My girlfriend just rented one of those luxury apartments in town, and she’s having a fit for me to move in with her. Soon as she gets an extra bed, I’m outta here.” She headed for the house without another word.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” Marilee told her friends as they shot her a questioning look.

  “How’s the job hunting?” Ruby asked, changing the subject.

  “I have an appointment with Irby Denton at the funeral home tomorrow.”

  “Oh my,” Clara said. “You’re going to work at a funeral home?”

  “Irby has to hire me first,” Marilee pointed out.

  Both women stared back at her. Finally, Ruby smiled. “Hey, I think that’s great! What exactly would you be doing there? If he hires you, I mean?”

  “He needs a receptionist. It’s an entry-level position, but I have to start somewhere.”

  “Oh my,” Clara repeated.

  Ruby looked at the woman. “Clara, why do you keep saying that?”

  Clara stared at Marilee. “Ruby doesn’t know your secret, does she?” Clara whispered.

  “What secret?” Ruby asked, glancing from one to the other.

  Marilee shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Besides, I need this job. I just discovered Grady took a chunk of money out of our savings account.”

  “You need a good lawyer,” Clara said.

  “I’ve already made an appointment. Tate Radford says he can have me divorced in ninety days on grounds of adultery.”

  “Well, they don’t come any better than Tate,” Clara said, “but he’s not cheap.”

  “I want somebody good, in case I end up with a custody battle on my hands,” Marilee replied.

  Clara reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay?”

  Marilee offered what she hoped was a brave smile. “Better than I was. I’m not going to recover overnight and I still think of Josh constantly, but I’m definitely better.”

  Ruby stamped her foot on the ground. “Somebody better tell me about this secret or I’m going to throw a fit right here in Marilee’s front yard.”

  “Oh, good grief!” Clara said. She stepped closer to Ruby. “Marilee is terrified of dead people. She has a phobia.”

  Ruby’s eyes grew wide as saucers as she regarded Marilee. “No kidding?”

  Marilee shot Clara a disgruntled look. “I’m not terrified of anything.” Other than the future, she reminded herself.

  “Marilee Abernathy, I watched you almost pass out when Sara Banks asked you to remove her husband’s wedding ring from his finger at his funeral,” Clara said. She looked at Ruby. “Marilee had a full-blown panic attack out in the parking lot. I almost had to bring out my smelling salts.”

  “I just don’t like touching dead people,” Marilee said. “I hardly think that’s going to be a problem if I’m working at the front desk.”

  “I’ve touched plenty of dead people,” Ruby told her proudly. “Irby sometimes calls me to do hair and makeup when his wife can’t do it. Dead people can’t hurt you, Marilee.”

  Clara looked doubtful. “Irby is never going to hire you if he finds out.”

  “He’s not going to find out,” Marilee replied. She looked long and hard at her friends. “Is he?”

  Both women pretended to zip their lips, lock them shut and throw away the keys. Marilee smiled prettily. “Thank you.”

  “What if you have to help him embalm somebody?” Ruby whispered.

  “I’m not going to go near the embalming room. You have to go to a special school for that.” Both women looked skeptical. “You have to admit I’m perfect for the job. I’ve been comforting the bereaved for years. It’s what I do best.”

  “You are perfect for the job,” Clara said. “As long as you don’t go near any dead people.”

  THE FOLLOWING 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 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.”