The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(36)

He looked annoyed as he reluctantly stood up and followed her. Out in the hallway, she noticed the police still walking around in the garage, so she pulled him into the office and closed the door. “Can you tell me what the hell she meant by that? He didn’t want to sell? You told me this deal was being worked on before he died, but she says he was difficult. Will you explain that?”

Artie was sitting on the desk now. “This is a real good offer they’re giving us. Golden Slumbers Funeral Home is the most distinguished funeral home in town, and like you’ve already seen, they run a big business, do a good job. Their financial situation is excellent, and they’re willing to take over right now.”

“But he didn’t want to sell to them,” Ilka said. “This is going a little too fast now. Did my father even really want to sell his business?”

Artie nodded. “We talked about it. Yes! We discussed it several times.”

“It sounds to me like the Oldhams tried to talk him into it several times, but he refused.”

“If we lose this deal, I can’t help you,” Artie said, serious now. “I’ve been down on my knees to get this offer done, and you’re not going to get a better deal than what they’re bringing to the table.”

Oh, really! she was about to say, but then she remembered she didn’t know who had called. Before she threw that in his face, she had to find them.

“So what are you planning on doing, huh?” Artie was starting to sound angry. “Are you thinking about sticking around? Keep this sinking ship afloat long enough for us all to drown? Or do you have the money to pay your dad’s debt? Because I can guarantee you’re not going to sweet-talk the IRS into anything. That money must be paid tomorrow, or else they will show up and throw us out and put big locks on all the doors. Really, I don’t think you understand how serious the situation is.”

Ilka caught herself holding her breath. She was enraged, close to exploding right in his face; an angry heat spread out on her cheeks and throat. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” she said, and walked out to find Sister Eileen.



The nun was at her desk, leaning over a sheet of paper with no folders or bookmarks in sight. It looked like she was writing a good old-fashioned letter. Ilka recognized the funeral home logo on the paper.

The door was open, and she knocked on the doorframe. “May I have a moment?”

“Of course.” Sister Eileen nodded and slipped the letter in a drawer. She hadn’t talked about what had happened last night, so Ilka decided not to, either.

Ilka walked in and sat down across from the nun. “I need to ask you about something.”

The sister nodded.

“Do you know if my father was against selling the business to the Oldham family? What I heard is that they tried to talk him into it many times, but he always refused.”

If anyone had been on her father’s side, Ilka felt, it would be Sister Eileen. They seemed to have been close, so surely she would have known what he’d wanted.

The nun folded her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “It would be wise to stick with Artie when it comes to business. He knows what he’s doing, and he wants the best for us all.” Then she leaned back, as if the final word had been spoken.

Ilka stood up and left. Frustrated, tired, and about to call home to ask her mother for advice, she grabbed Artie’s cigarettes as she walked through the kitchen and out to the parking lot.

The police had finished in the garage; their car was gone. She lit a cigarette, and again she noticed the woman sitting on the bench. She strode over and joined her.

They sat for a while in silence while Ilka smoked. She finished off that cigarette and lit another; then she sank back. “I think you knew my father,” she said, without looking at the woman. A few moments later, she added, “Do you think he wanted to sell his funeral home to Golden Slumbers?”

The woman didn’t react at first, and Ilka thought the woman might not have understood what she was asking about. Then she slowly shook her head. “Never.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “He would never sell to them.”

Then she stood up abruptly and left before Ilka could ask any more questions.

Ilka smoked one more cigarette while looking the building over. A gigantic house filled with life and death, and suddenly it was all hers. She stood and went back inside.





15



Ilka returned to the conference room, where Phyllis Oldham was standing by the window, speaking in a low voice with Artie. She heard them mention something about the harbor and charity, but they stopped talking when they saw her.

“I’m sorry,” she said to them. Mrs. Oldham’s forehead twitched; Artie slowly turned away from the window. “The deal is off. I appreciate the work you two have put into this, but I can’t sign something my father opposed.”

A voice in her head yelled at her: You didn’t even know him; what the hell are you doing? They both looked at her in disapproval.

“I’m going up to pack and return to Denmark. The estate will be…how do you say, finished by an official. Then whatever happens will happen.” She asked Artie to tell Sister Eileen to pack her things, thinking that if the IRS showed up and closed the funeral home, they might as well be prepared.

Before they could say a word, she left the room, ran up the steps, and slammed the door behind her. Her first thought was to call her lawyer.