The Undertaker's Daughter (Ilka #1)(74)

For a few moments, they looked at each other. Then she walked over to the desk for the keys to her father’s car. She stuffed the transfer agreement in her bag and left the office.





32



Ilka drove into the enormous parking lot behind Golden Slumbers Funeral Home. The spaces closest to the building were taken, so she parked facing Lake Michigan. Across the street, a flag hung at half-mast over the door of a building, and she hesitated at the prospect of going in during a funeral service. But she got out anyway and headed for the employee entrance Artie had used on their previous visit.

She walked down the long hall decorated with family portraits. The soft, deep blue carpet engulfed her sneakers with each step, and the pungent odor of the embalming fluids was every bit as nasty as it had been the first time she’d been there.

She took the few steps up to the desk, where the nun wearing the same garment as Sister Eileen had greeted them the other day. Now the desk was cleared and the chair empty. She looked around, then walked on to the office. Just before reaching the door, she noticed someone with his back to her, looking out over the river. Ilka recognized the youngest son, Jesse. He didn’t seem to remember her, because when he turned he simply smiled politely and said it was going to be a beautiful evening on Lake Michigan.

Ilka asked if he knew where she could find Phyllis. Jesse pointed to his mother’s office and walked up the steps.

The door was open, and she knocked on the doorframe. Phyllis was sitting behind an old mahogany desk. She gave a start when she saw Ilka. She must have been lost in thought.

“May I come in?” Ilka asked.

After a moment of silence, Ilka walked to the chair across the desk from Phyllis and laid her bag on the floor. “I’m sorry I behaved so badly earlier. Now that I’ve thought about it, I can see the right thing to do is sell the business to you.”

She smiled apologetically and tried to show that she knew she had behaved childishly. But Phyllis Oldham sat staring straight ahead, stiff and unresponsive. Petrified. Had she heard Ilka?

Ilka fumbled around and finally brought out the transfer agreement she’d signed. She laid it on the desk; then she saw the woman was shaking her head.

Phyllis Oldham was dressed in an elegant blue suit with a blouse underneath buttoned up to her neck; a heavy gold cross rested on her breasts, and her slightly wavy hair was perfectly brushed. In short, she resembled herself. But when Ilka looked closely, she realized that in reality, nothing was the same. The pale woman seemed older than the last time she’d seen her, only a few days earlier. What really struck her, though, was Phyllis’s stare—was she even aware Ilka was in the room?

“Phyllis,” she said, but the woman didn’t answer. It was almost as if she wasn’t there. Had she gone into shock? Maybe that made sense, given that she’d just admitted to paying Mike Gilbert to leave town.

Ilka said her name again, and suddenly Phyllis looked at her. She reached for the transfer agreement and tore it in half, and without a word she swiveled her chair and turned on the shredder under the window. Before Ilka could react, she’d stuffed the two halves of the agreement in the machine. A second later they were reduced to confetti.

Ilka watched silently as the agreement she’d just gathered the courage to sign disappeared into a wastebasket.

“My offer no longer stands,” Phyllis said, her voice flat and a bit rough edged. “I’ve decided to sell the family business. From now on Golden Slumbers Funeral Home will be a part of American Funeral Group. It’s best you go now.”

Ilka opened her mouth, then closed it as what Phyllis Oldham had just said sank in. “But I don’t understand—”

Phyllis waved her hand. “No questions. I’m not at liberty to speak about the deal, but you’re welcome to contact the new owners.”

Ilka simply stared at her, unable to move, while thoughts of her own situation and the future of her father’s funeral home ran through her head, now that selling to the Oldhams was no longer possible.

“This is my last day at the office,” Phyllis said. “I’ve been told that I mustn’t remove anything, not even personal belongings. Not even the family portraits. No one coming in should suspect new ownership.”

Ilka backed up toward the door. Suddenly the room felt claustrophobic, airless. Golden Slumbers had been the biggest funeral home in town, but it was nothing compared to the bulldozer forcing everyone else out of business.

“And saying you could take over my father’s business at the end of the month won’t change your mind?”

For a moment, Phyllis didn’t seem to understand what she meant, but then she shook her head. “It’s too late.”

Ilka nodded.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she yelled, on her way to the car. She kicked an empty cola can at a black Dodge parked in front of the building. Then she turned and took one last look at the funeral home. Things hadn’t exactly become easier for her.





33



Back at her own funeral home, Ilka parked the car, shut off the engine, closed her eyes, and rested her head against the steering wheel. What she wanted most of all was to call her mother and ask her to come and help her out of the mess she’d gotten herself into.

She pressed her temples and tried to control her breathing. They were going to be crushed; she had no doubt about that. The smartest thing to do was to look for a new buyer before word got out that American Funeral Group had bought Golden Slumbers. Otherwise no one would dare take over a small operation like hers. And now that the funeral home chain owned a big funeral home in town, they probably weren’t interested in hers. She just didn’t understand why Phyllis Oldham had decided to sell when she so recently had planned on expanding.