Kay was definitely intrigued. She was just about to ask how Ruth was going to help rescue her from herself, when two elaborate standing floral sprays with legs walked through the front door, stopped and spoke. “Campbell?” came the question from a deep voice hidden behind the profusion of flowers.
“Main chapel,” Ruth said pointing to the room where Herbert Campbell was currently lying in state.
“Send my guy in there, will you? He’s got the casket spray,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the chapel.
Ruth stood up. “I’d better go help these gentlemen get situated and then we can continue our little talk. They tend to be a careless with how they set the flowers and it really upsets Ed.” She waited for the delivery man’s helper and signaled for him to follow her. The two disappeared into the scented cloud left behind by roses and lilies.
Kay smiled to herself. She was proud to work in a business where attention to detail was so important. Flower arrangements were one small part of that attention. Part of Kay’s training had been learning the important role flowers played as visible expressions of condolence sent by well-wishers. As such, it mattered how they were displayed. Mortuary staff and flowers, alike, were put through their paces moving from chapel, to church, to graveside - each location requiring an entirely new setup. Before the flowers left the mortuary, it was Kay’s job to collect and save every card accompanying each flower arrangement and/or potted plant. They were then presented to the family for proper acknowledgment at a later time - a necessary detail that could be easily overlooked during all the activity surrounding the funeral.
Kay felt stupid sitting all by herself watching the florist’s assistant going in and out to retrieve his delivery van’s payload of sympathy; she decided to follow Ruth and see if she could lend a hand. Anything to quickly get them back to their conversation.
Kay couldn’t get over how Ruth seemed to really get it, and didn’t make her feel foolish for making such a big, dramatic deal about everything. Kay was confident the older woman’s advice was going to give her the boost she needed to deal with Dave.
Ruth dismissed Kay’s offer of help with a wave of her hand; she just stood back and watched the two men rolling their eyes at each other as Ruth corrected and adjusted every one of their unacceptable placements.
The assistant delivery man spotted Kay, walked over and asked, “What’s that thing?” pointing to a sheer, netted covering draped over the lid and opening of the casket, making it difficult to get a clear view of Mr. Campbell’s body.
“It’s a casket veil,” Ruth responded before Kay had a chance to tell him she didn’t know. She had never seen one before. “It’s put there to discourage people from touching the deceased.” She continued fussing with the various flower pots and vases.
“Oh,” said the man, apparently not requiring any further explanation.
Ruth stood back and took one last assessment of the display. With a sigh of satisfaction, she turned and said, “Thank you, gentlemen.” Arms outstretched she herded them toward the door. “I’ll be sure to let Mr. Salinger know how helpful you were.”
The two men shrugged, murmured “thanks” and quickly made their exit.
Kay was puzzled, but curious about the reason for obscuring Mr. Campbell’s appearance with the gauzy cover. “Ruth, I don’t understand. How is the family supposed to see Mr. Campbell through that thing?”
Ruth gave Kay a knowing smile, took her by the elbow. “Here. Stand in this spot. I’m about to dazzle you with a bit of old-school mortuary show biz magic.”
Ruth lightly patted Kay on the back before walking over to a pair of heavy, light-blue velvet drapes hanging on the wall a few feet from the foot of the casket. She pulled back one of the drapes, secured it with a tie-back mounted on the wall and disappeared through the opening to the tiny alcove that housed the mortuary’s dual keyboard Wurlitzer organ.
Kay tried to imagine what kind “magic” Ruth could possibly perform.
Maybe she’s going to bring Mr. Campbell back to life with the Light My Fire organ riff.
But instead of hearing Ray Manzarek’s iconic rock intro wafting out from the little organ room, a bone-rattling “clank” shot through the opening in the drapes, followed by a tentative illumination of a row of lights hidden behind the soffit on the chapel ceiling.
“Are you ok?” Kay called to Ruth.
“I’m fine. Just stand there and watch.”
Kay did as she was told and was rewarded with a jaw-dropping display as the overhead lighting was brought up high, then brought down low, then raised again, finally settling on a medium, soft glow. As if by magic, the casket veil seemed to disappear and Mr. Campbell’s body came into distinct focus.
After a few more minor adjustments, Ruth walked out to the check the results of her handiwork. “I’ve still got it!” she boasted with pride.
“Wow, that’s impressive. But I still don’t understand what it’s all about.”
“It’s an old stage lighting technique used for preparing severely damaged bodies for viewing,” Ruth said. “Mr. Campbell was thrown from his truck and his face took the brunt of the impact.”
Kay inched up closer to the casket to take a better look. She had never seen a case as serious as Mr. Campbell. Now she could see the heavier-than-normal layer of makeup and restorative wax Mr. Campbell had been repaired with; Ed had applied it so expertly it was almost impossible to detect any evidence of the massive cuts and abrasions Mr. Campbell had sustained in the accident.
“But wouldn’t it be easier to have a closed casket?” Kay asked, assuming the obvious alternative. “You have to admit all those cosmetics make him look less than natural.”
“We gave the family that option but they still requested an open casket. And, to the extent we’re able, we like to honor our families’ requests. Thus, the reason for the stagecraft. All it takes is a little direct and dispersed lighting, bounced off a light-pink ceiling with the casket veil acting as a scrim and the family can remember Mr. Campbell intact, rather than road kill.” Kay was shocked by Ruth’s irreverence.
Ruth walked back to the organ alcove with Kay close behind.
“Here’s our little magic maker,” Ruth said, pointing to a peculiar round, black-enameled, metal apparatus mounted on the wall above the organ. Kay thought it looked like a car wheel missing its tire. A long metal bar was attached at the center of the “wheel” with a black wooden handle on one end and a small, hammerhead-looking thing on the other.
Maybe that’s the jack.
“This is one of the first electric light rheostats ever made.” Ruth grabbed the black wooden handle and turned it, causing the lights in the chapel to change.
“Ed’s grandfather was an amateur actor and saw one of these used in a production he was appearing in. Being the forward thinker that he was, he instantly saw the benefit of using it to help “stage” our deceased clients.”
Ruth went on to explain to Kay how old man Salinger had learned everything he could about lighting techniques and then taught them to everyone who worked at the mortuary.
“I learned from Lorri,” Ruth said. Kay could tell the woman was proud of being a part of this morbid showbiz tradition.
Ruth dialed the rheostat back to its ideal setting before turning off all the lights. She freed the drape from the tie-back allowing it to swing back into place, once again, concealing its theatrical secrets.
“C’mon,” Ruth beckoned to Kay as she headed for her office. “As I recall, I was just about to give you the solution to your problem with your ex-husband when we got interrupted.”
5
With a Little Help from My Friend
“Hello, this is Kay Manning, calling for Dave Noland, if he’s available,” Kay said, using her best telephone etiquette. She had always hated callers who made you ask, “who’s calling?” and made it her personal crusade to model good phone manners - even when she was calling people she’d rather not talk to.
There was
a weird little beat of silence before the receptionist gave Kay a frosty, “Please hold.” A breath of a shiver went down Kay’s spine.
What the hell was that?
Fortunately, the paranoia threatening to overtake her senses was thwarted by the terrible hold music playing on the phone. Even though she would have preferred a silent wait to the elevator music, Kay found herself providing the words to the corny instrumental rendition.
“Cracklin’ Rosie geet on board…”
Thanks to Ruth, there wasn’t a trace of nervousness in her body and she was actually looking forward to having a friendly conversation with her ex.
“Crack-e-lin’ Rose you’re a store-bought woman…”
“Hello, Kay.” Dave broke in right as Kay’s song began its famous crescendo.
“Hey there, Dave,” she said with a startled laugh. “Please excuse my little song, but your hold music is kinda catchy.”
He ignored her merry greeting. “Thanks for getting back to me. There’s something I need to run past you.”
Normally, Kay would have been thrown by his impersonal response to her attempt at being friendly, but not now. Seems nothing could ruin her spirits.
“Let me guess. You’ve knocked the socks off your new boss, he’s given you a big raise and you don’t have to cut my child support after all.” She was trying to kid him into the easy camaraderie that had once come to them so naturally.
She punctuated her silly guess with another giggle but Dave was having none of it. His purpose for calling was simply to get her bank information. Seems he wanted to set up a monthly automatic deposit from his bank to hers, so he wouldn’t have to write and mail a check, as he’d been doing for the last seven years.
The less personal contact the better, right? Kay wanted to say, but didn’t because it was pointless. Even the thought of us touching the same piece of paper is too much for him.
But somehow, that didn’t matter.
Isn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara said after Ashley gave her the ole’ heave-ho?
Kay giggled again. She could feel Dave’s annoyance ooze through the phone. But Kay didn’t care. As it was, she had some business of her own to discuss with Dave and the timing was perfect.
Without question or comment she complied with his request and then quickly segued to her own pressing demand.
“I was going to call you myself this afternoon. I have to work a viewing tonight, so you’re going to have to take Cory to therapy.” Her confidence was such she didn’t bother to ask whether or not it was convenient.
Despite her Ruth-inspired boldness she, nevertheless, expected him to put her off until he had the chance to check with his wife. Apparently, since his marriage to Sandy he’d become a new kind of husband, making sure to consult her on even the tiniest of details.
“I tell her everything,” he had once declared to Kay, proud to let her know he had turned over a new leaf from his days of lies and deceit.
But much to Kay’s surprise, Dave’s mood made an about face. “Sure. No problem. What time is her appointment?”
She wasn’t expecting this quick eagerness to cooperate and she felt those old “give-the-guy-a-chance” feelings rising to the surface.
I guess Les is right. When it comes to Dave, I am a big pushover.
She was about to lay out the details of his parental assignment when she was interrupted by the loud buzz of his office intercom. “Do you need to get that?” she asked, with polite concern.
“It’s ok. This isn’t going to take long, is it?”
She launched back into her description of the therapist’s address and a suggestion for the easiest way to get there, when the buzzer went off again - this time twice - daring Dave to ignore it.
He took the hint. “Could you excuse me a second? This may be important.”
Back on hold she went. With the strains of the Muzak version of “Love Will Keep Us Together” in her ear, Kay couldn’t help but smile at the irony. She and Dave were still together…sort of…and it wasn’t because of their love for each other but their love for their daughters.
“…When those girls start hanging around, talking me down…”
The lyrics suddenly brought back her earlier encounter with the receptionist. Was she imagining things, or had the woman been personally annoyed by her call to Dave? As much as she wanted to deny it, the woman’s displeased demeanor had struck a familiar chord of discomfort.
Oh, my God, Kay. Will you please stop mind-fucking yourself?
Dave came back on the line and Kay instantly detected an air of agitation. “Listen, Kay. I’m gonna have to go. I’ll let you know when the bank transaction has been set up.”
“But I haven’t finished giving you the directions to the therapist’s office.”
“I’m sure Cory knows how to get there. Talk to you later.”
“Wait, Dave! The appointment is at 7:00 and you have to take Mariah with you.”
“Will do. Bye.”
“Dave!”
“For christsake, what?”
“You’re going to have to take care of the co-pay. I’ll reimburse you for your half this weekend.
“Fine. Whatever. I gotta go.”
Their roller coaster of a conversation was over. Normally she would have spent time taking apart and analyzing every word…every inflection, every nuance. But she shrugged and decided she couldn’t be bothered.
This was new behavior for Kay and she wasn’t sure if it was coming from her own growing maturity or the artificial kind Ruth had been so gracious to supply. It had been years since she had smoked pot, and she had forgotten its power to mercifully obscure her undesirable shortcomings.
When Ruth first suggested taking advantage of a little cannabisial assistance, Kay couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Seems Ruth’s doctor had prescribed medical marijuana for a long list of maladies plaguing Ruth’s day-to-day existence. Although the prim and proper woman had initially encountered great difficulty coming to grips with using a substance associated with hippies, drop outs and slackers, today Ruth was proud to be “licensed to carry,” and was one of its greatest proponents. She had overcome her great reluctance to even speak about the matter and was now extolling its benefits to anyone who would listen…with the greatest of discretion, of course.
Duh. That’s why I’m paranoid.
The receptionist at Dave’s office wasn’t protecting her personal territory. She was just one of those nasty bitches occupying a position she was completely ill-suited for. It was like casting Joan Crawford in a part made for Shirley Temple. She’d never be able to understand employers who hired these sour personalities when they were charged with making the all-important first impression of their company.
Happy she had solved the reason for her troubling twinges of discomfort, she set about to contact her girls to let them know about the plans for the evening. She wasn’t sure if Cory would react with pain or pleasure, but she knew Mariah would be delighted. A quick glance at the clock let her know the girls were home from school.
Mariah answered on the first ring and after the cursory question and answer session about the goings-on at school that day, (Kay: “How was school?” Mariah: “Fine.” Kay: “What did you do?” Mariah: “Nothing.”) she asked to speak to Cory. While she waited for her elder daughter to come to the phone, Kay imagined a conversation where the tables were turned (Mariah: “How was work?” Kay:”Fine.” Mariah: “What did you do?” Kay: “I got stoned.”).
“Hi, Mom. Don’t forget I have therapy at 7:00,” Cory said.
“That’s why I’m calling. I’m working late tonight so Dad’s going to take you. He’ll be picking you and Mariah up around 6:30, so please be ready.”
“Wow. How did that happen?” But before Kay could answer, Mariah interjected, “Oh, God. Please tell me Sandy isn’t coming.”
It had never occurred to ask Dave if he’d be bringing his family along. Kay couldn’t imagine Sandy wanting to sit around with a rambunctious li
ttle boy waiting for Cory while she spilled her guts about her nasty step-mother.
“I really don’t think she’ll want to bring Little Dave out at that hour. I’m sure Dad is coming alone, but Mariah will have to go with you guys. Please make sure her homework is done before Dad gets there.”
“Mom, she’s not going to listen to me. Will you tell her so she won’t give me any shit?”
“Cory! Do you have to use that language? It’s so disrespectful.” Kay hated to see Cory taking on the inevitable bad habits that come with growing up.
“Sorry, Mom. It slipped. But, will you please tell her?”
Kay did as her daughter asked and even though Mariah griped, Kay knew spending time with her dad would be the perfect incentive for Mariah to get her schoolwork done. With a few last second maternal instructions for remembering to eat and wearing a sweater, Kay hung up the phone, encouraged this little arrangement with Dave might just work out better than she imagined.
“So, how did everything go? By the look on your face I’m assuming it was a success.” Ruth was wearing her coat, apparently getting ready to leave for the day. Kay thought it was amusing the once, standoff-ish woman was now becoming a regular visitor to her office.
“Let’s just put it this way. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Kay smiled at the woman with a new-found intimacy. “It gave me the leg-up I needed.”
“I’m so glad. We women have to stick together. But I am counting on you to be discreet. I don’t think Ed would approve.“
“Don’t worry. Now that I’ve gotten over the initial hump, I doubt I’ll need your help again…except maybe to talk things over every now and then.”
Ruth smiled back at her new friend. “Don’t forget to lock up after the viewing. The front door can be a little hinkey, so make sure it’s secure before you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Kay wondered if Ruth was going home to get high.
* * *
The Campbell viewing was in full swing. Kay was back in her office trying to finish the paperwork she had intended to complete before the afternoon had so quickly gotten away from her. She could tell by the rising and falling sound levels of muffled crying and low conversation reaching all the way back to her office, they had a full house.
Same Old Truths (The Reluctant Avenger) Page 4
