The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(10)

“But it’s a good idea,” Helen said. “We’ll decorate the chapel with flowers from the garden. We can go over and pick them together. It’s a beautiful way to say good-bye to the garden she loved, too.”

“But if we use hers, will we get the money back we already paid for flowers?” Joe asked.

Ilka nodded. “Yes, of course.” Surely it wasn’t a question of all that much money.

“Oh God!” Helen said. “I almost forgot to give you this.” Out of her bag she pulled a large folder that said “Family Record Guide” and handed it over to Ilka. “It’s already filled out.”

In many ways, it reminded Ilka of the diaries she’d kept in school. First a page with personal information. The full name of the deceased, the parents’ names. Whether she was married, divorced, single, or a widow. Education and job positions. Then a page with familial relations, and on the opposite page there was room to write about the deceased’s life and memories. There were sections for writing about a first home, about becoming a parent, about becoming a grandparent. And then a section that caught Ilka’s attention, because it had to be of some use. Favorites: colors, flowers, season, songs, poems, books. And on and on it went. Family traditions. Funny memories, role models, hobbies, special talents. Mrs. Norton had filled it all out very thoroughly.

Ilka closed the folder and asked how they would describe their mother and grandmother.

“She was very sociable,” Joe said. “Also after Dad died. She was involved in all sorts of things; she was very active in the seniors’ club in West Racine.”

“And family meant a lot to her,” Helen said. She’d stopped crying without Ilka noticing. “She was always the one who made sure we all got together, at least twice a year.”

Ilka let them speak, as long as they stayed away from talking about charms and choosing coffins. She had no idea how to wind up the conversation, but she kept listening as they nearly all talked at once, to make sure that everything about the deceased came out. Even gloomy Pete added that his grandmother made the world’s best pecan pie.

“And she had the best Southern recipe for macaroni and cheese,” he added. The others laughed.

Ilka thought again about Erik. After his funeral, their apartment had felt empty and abandoned. A silence hung that had nothing to do with being alone. It took a few weeks for her to realize the silence was in herself. There was no one to talk to, so everything was spoken inside her head. And at the same time, she felt as if she were in a bubble no sound could penetrate. That had been one of the most difficult things to get used to. Slowly things got better, and at last—she couldn’t say precisely when—the silence connected with her loss disappeared.

Meanwhile, she’d had the business to run. What a circus. They’d started working together almost from the time they’d first met. He was the photographer, though occasionally she went out with him to help set up the equipment and direct the students. Otherwise, she was mostly responsible for the office work. But she had done a job or two by herself when they were especially busy; she’d seen how he worked. There was nothing mysterious about it. Classes were lined up with the tallest students in back, and the most attractive were placed in the middle so the focus would be on them. The individual portraits were mostly about adjusting the height of the seat and taking enough pictures to ensure that one of them was good enough. But when Erik suddenly wasn’t there, with a full schedule of jobs still booked, she had taken over. Without giving it much thought. She did know the school secretaries, and they knew her, so that eased the transition.

“Do we really have to buy a coffin, when Mom is just going to be burned?” Steve said, interrupting her thoughts. “Can’t we just borrow one? She won’t be lying in there very long.”

Shit. Ilka had blanked out for a moment. Where the hell was Artie? Did they have coffins they loaned out? She had to say something. “It would have to be one that’s been used.”

“We’re not putting Mom in a coffin where other dead people have been!” Helen was indignant, while a hint of a smile appeared on her son’s face.

Ilka jumped in. “Unfortunately, we can only loan out used coffins.” She hoped that would put a lid on this idea.

“We can’t do that. Can we?” Helen said to her two brothers. “On the other hand, if we borrow a coffin, we might be able to afford charms instead.”

Ilka didn’t have the foggiest idea if her suggestion was even possible. But if this really was her business, she could decide, now, couldn’t she?

“We would save forty-five hundred dollars,” Joe said.

Forty-five hundred dollars for a coffin! This could turn out to be disastrous if it ended with them losing money from her ignorant promise.

“Oh, at least. Dad’s coffin cost seven thousand dollars.”

What is this? Ilka thought. Are coffins here decorated in gold leaf?

“But Grandma already paid for her funeral,” the grandson said. “You can’t save on something she’s already paid for. You’re not going to get her money back, right?” Finally, he looked up.

“We’ll figure this out,” Ilka said.

The boy looked over at his mother and began crying.

“Oh, honey!” Helen said.

“You’re all talking about this like it isn’t even Grandma; like it’s someone else who’s dead,” he said, angry now.