The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(50)
“There’s no glitter in the paint. It’s glossy, but it doesn’t glitter.”
They spoke almost in unison, and Ilka reacted by taking a step back and bumping into Artie, who had parked himself behind her without her noticing.
“It doesn’t, no,” he said. “It’s not exactly what your mother ordered, which isn’t available anymore. This coffin, though, is a jet-black limousine. It’s the replacement model, more exclusive, like the name suggests. That’s also the reason it’s much more expensive.”
The older brother butted in. “We’re not paying one penny more. You didn’t warn us about any extra expenses. And we’re not paying just because a model was discontinued. It’s not our fault!”
“No, though a lot of people insure themselves against things like this, so they don’t have to worry.”
The brother was about to protest, but Artie beat him to it. “But of course you don’t have to pay the difference.” He laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder, as if they were old friends. “It’s part of our service. With us you don’t have to worry about expensive insurance to guard against extra costs. And no one who preorders their burial in this funeral home will ever see us compromise on quality, even when prices go up. In fact, we try to give our customers more than what they pay for.”
Ilka realized she’d been holding her breath again during this whole conversation. Not so much because of what Artie had been rattling on about, but because he spoke in an entirely different manner: Everything sounded so convincing. She hadn’t known he had this in him. Impressed with how he had saved the day, she turned to him and nodded in acknowledgment before heading for the door. It felt like the room was closing in on her; she needed some air, but just as she reached the hallway, she was called back.
“Is there a hook for Mother’s dogs, to hang the leashes on?” Helen had just finished placing flowers on the floor around the coffin.
“Not a real hook, no,” Ilka said. “But I was thinking you would have the dogs with you in the first row, and you can fasten the leashes to the sofa’s leg. Or will your mother’s dogs be too close to the coffin that way?”
“Oh no!” Helen said. “We want the dogs up front. That’s what Mom would have wanted.”
“Fine, then we’ll do it that way.” Ilka was about to leave again when she ran into the choir, seven men and three women from the seniors’ club, who wanted to know where to stand.
Suddenly Ilka realized she hadn’t seen anything of Sister Eileen since she’d brought in the life board. And now, as guests were beginning to arrive, she was still nowhere in sight.
“Just a moment,” Ilka said, walking away without answering them. The nun wasn’t in the reception area or the front hall, where the food was set out.
On the way to the small kitchen Ilka glanced into the arrangement room and her father’s office—empty. Back in the hallway now, she was heading for the garage when the door opened and Sister Eileen entered.
“The guests are arriving,” Ilka said. She was annoyed; she hadn’t yet asked about the clothes in the Dumpster, either. Couldn’t bring herself to. She was afraid of being too pushy. Though it might just be a question of learning something about the way nuns like her live, Ilka thought. Maybe she’d been praying over in her apartment, or whatever the proper thing to do was. “I would appreciate it if you could go in and welcome them. The choir is here too. Could you show them where to go?” she added as she headed back to the chapel.
The people attending the services streamed in, and a low murmur slowly spread throughout the chapel. Ilka made her way into a corner behind the open folding doors. Artie was in the middle of the crowd; she sensed he was giving some final tips to the family, who had wanted to arrange the funeral service. He nodded when Steve signaled he was ready to start the music. The choir would sing after the two brothers each spoke about their mother.
Ilka noticed the grandson sitting on the plush sofa. One of his grandmother’s dachshunds was on his lap; the other sat at his feet. The chapel was almost full; people were speaking in hushed tones. Most of them were older, but there were also many close to Helen’s and her brothers’ ages.
“Thanks,” Ilka said, when Artie came over and stood beside her. Soft music poured out of the speakers, and the voices fell silent. For a moment, everyone listened to the music; then the two brothers stood and walked up to the podium to welcome everyone.
When one of the brothers began his speech, Ilka looked over at the table with the long tablecloth. One of the broad satin ribbons from the stolen flowers stuck out, a scarlet ribbon, and part of a woman’s name—not the name of the deceased lying in the coffin—stood out in gold.
“Come on,” Artie said, pulling her away. “They’ll handle the rest themselves. And Sister Eileen will take care of the food; it’s all been put out.”
She followed him out back under the carport. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly.
“I think Sister Eileen threw my father’s clothes away instead of giving them to her parish, like we talked about,” Ilka said. She sat down on the steps.
He looked surprised. “Why would she do that?”
Ilka shrugged. “I don’t understand it either. She even offered to take them herself, when I said I would deliver them.”