by Fran Rizer
No need to worry about the number for the Taylors’ address. The widow was standing on the stoop waving a dish cloth. Jake backed the funeral coach up to the front step as though fully confident the casket would fit through the door. I pulled the van in beside them.
"Bless your heart! You got here on time. When Mr. Middleton told me he wouldn’t be able to come, I figured you’d screw it all up." She waved her hand toward the door. "Come on in and unload Evan. I want to be sure he still looks okay before any guests arrive."
"Pardon me, Mrs. Taylor," I said in my most professional funeral home voice. "We’ll need to measure the door and be sure everything will fit before we remove Mr. Taylor from the hearse . . . I mean funeral coach."
"Do what you gotta do," Mrs. Taylor huffed, "but I assure you it will work." She sniffed. "I’ll wait inside. Just let me know when you’re ready. My friends took the couch out last night to make room for him." She slammed the door behind her.
Meanwhile, as they used to say in western movies, Jake whipped out two tape measures and handed one to Frankie. Jake climbed into the funeral coach and measured the dimensions of the casket while Frankie calculated the size of the front door.
If I were a gambler, I would’ve put money on the fact that Mrs. Taylor was ticked off. The look on her face, her tone, and her slamming the door—all indicated her mood. She was so sure that big casket could fit through the mobile home door. We run into that occasionally—people who think they know more about our business than we do.
Perhaps if she saw how beautiful some of the floral tributes were, she’d feel better. I opened the back of the van and pulled out a gorgeous wreath made of bronze fall flowers and yellow roses. I rang the doorbell, and she answered immediately.
"May I bring in some of the flowers?" I asked politely.
"Might as well. Those idiots will still be trying to figure out how to do this when my guests arrive. All they have to do is open the door as wide as it will go and tip the coffin just a little bit sideways."
I stepped into the mobile home. Mr. Taylor’s spot was obviously against the picture window directly across from the entrance. I placed the wreath beside an end table. "Aren’t those stunning?" I asked.
Mrs. Taylor ignored my question. "Can you please make them bring him on in?" she whined.
"There’s some question about whether the door is wide enough." I answered. "We don’t want to risk scratching the metal or damaging your door frame."
"Just hurry them up!" She nudged me toward the door. "Bring in the other flowers and we’ll put them in the bedroom for now, then arrange ’em around Evan when those fools finally bring him in. This is ridiculous! Tell them I know it will fit. Just bring him in." She shut the door behind me.
Jake and Frankie approached me together. "We’re not sure it will make it," Frankie said.
"We may have to take the door frame down," Jake added. "I’m worried about the body, too. Maybe if we take him out, then put him back in after we get the casket inside."
I grimaced. "And what are you going to do with him while you’re trying to fit the empty casket through the door?"
Frankie grinned. "We could lay him out on that picnic table over there," he said and pointed across the yard.
If looks could kill, the ones Jake and I both cut Frankie would have made him need a casket himself.
"Mrs. Taylor insists that all you have to do is open the door completely and tip the casket a tiny bit," I said.
"And what makes you think she knows what she’s talking about?" Jake demanded.
"I don’t know, but maybe if we try it her way and it doesn’t work, she won’t be so angry about it," I answered.
Frankie couldn’t resist getting in his two cents’ worth. "And what if it tips too far, the lid opens, and the body falls out?" he asked.
"That won’t happen," I said. "The lid is latched. Let’s tell her we’re ready to try her idea."
Mrs. Taylor beamed when we offered to attempt it her way before we began disassembling her door or removing the top of the casket. I’d hoped she would go into one of the bedrooms while Frankie and Jake worked, but she stood outside by the steps telling them what to do and able to see whatever fiasco happened.
I expected her to irritate the two men, and I didn’t think a funeral floral piece would lift their moods at all.
"Now prop the door as wide as it will go," Mrs. Taylor instructed. Then, "You’re going to have to tip it just slightly because the width is too big for the door, but if it’s barely slanted, it will work."
I couldn’t believe, I promise, I absolutely could not believe it worked. In hardly any time, the casket sat on its stand against the picture window across from the front door. When we opened the lid, Mr. Taylor looked exactly as he had when we left the funeral home. We brought in the flowers and arranged pot plants and baskets in front of the coffin with larger wreaths and sprays on each end.
When Frankie and I were finally free to leave, I told Mrs. Taylor, "Someone will be back in the morning with the funeral coach to pick up Mr. Taylor and Jake."
"Why is that young man staying? I don’t need him for anything else."
"He can help out with whatever may be needed, or he’ll just stay out of the way if you prefer."
"Why don’t you take him with you?"
"State law requires that a representative of Mid-dleton’s remain with Mr. Taylor during visitations."
"But this is a wake."
"Same thing legally. Don’t worry. He won’t get in your way." I thought for a moment. "You know, Mrs. Taylor, that door does not look wide enough. How did you know exactly what to do?"
"I’ve lived in this trailer almost thirty years."
"I guess you’ve had a lot of furniture moved in and out in that long," I ventured.
"Sure have," she said, "but more important than that, Evan’s death makes me a widow for the third time. I figured if Evan was the smallest of my three husbands, and the funeral people got the first two in here for wakes that way, it would work again."
Daddy says people need to learn to shut up and listen. Sometimes, life proves him right.
Chapter Seventeen
The night was clear and the moon was yellow,
And the leaves came tumbling down.
But Stagger Lee was nowhere in sight.
That old song, one Daddy loved, echoed in my mind as I stepped out of my Mustang. The leaves were falling, but the night and moon parts didn’t fit because it wasn’t dark yet.
Molly’s twin aunts lived on a working farm about thirty minutes from St. Mary. Having been very prosperous years ago, the family had built an impressive house on a hill top surrounded by pastures and fields. Not quite a plantation home, but close. The bridal shower was a cookout for couples. Molly’s aunts had opened a drive-through in the fence around one of the pastures beside the long driveway from the road to the house. Signs directed guests to park inside the fence.
I’d heard the party would be pool-side behind the house. Even with the hot spell we’d been having, I doubted anyone would go swimming, but I felt overdressed in my sundress and mid-heel, open-toed sandals. Most people wore shorts, and they kept looking at me. That could have been because my gift-wrapped present was so big that I could barely see around it.
Jane and I had planned to meet Frank and Bill at the shower, but Jane was still mad at Frankie for questioning her when we got back from the Taylor home. At the last minute, she’d refused to go. Some folks might have thought that was jealousy on her part. After all, this was obviously a big deal for Molly and Bill. Jane’s shower would be a simple affair for a few females, probably in our apartment since I’d be giving it. I knew better than to think Jane might be envious though. She was very secure in herself, and I’d never known her to be green-eyed toward anyone.
"Hi, Callie. Let me carry that for you." I peeked around the present and saw deep, molten eyes and crisp, dark hair. Even better was the big grin this hunk was wearing.
"Levi!" No ne
ed to fake enthusiasm. "I thought you moved away from St. Mary when the sub shop closed."
He lifted the package from my arms. "I did. What on earth did you buy? This thing weighs a ton."
"It’s china. I told the sales clerk to finish out whatever they needed to complete four place settings. Buh-leeve me. It was every bit as expensive as it is heavy."
Levi nodded toward his chest. "My present’s in my shirt pocket. I solved the problem with a gift certificate. Much easier to carry."
As we walked toward the two story, columned house with its neatly manicured grounds, I felt better than I had all day.
Levi and I had dated for a while when he lived in town and worked at a sub shop, but he moved back to Charleston, and gradually, the dates had grown farther and farther apart. I liked him. He was funny and charismatic—so charming that I wondered if he were a womanizer. I had a track record of being drawn to men who always said the right thing, men who were so captivating because they’d had lots and lots of practice.
None of that mattered right then. Levi and I were walking toward the house side-by-side, approaching the shower as though we were together. He even had on khaki slacks and a white open-collared shirt, which made my dress and heels suitable.
"What brings you back to St. Mary?" I asked.
"This party."
We’d reached the yard. More balloons and signs directed us to the back of the house.
Wow! Molly’s aunts were trying to outdo the wedding reception. Humongous flower arrangements centered four long serving tables draped in white. Men in black pants, white shirts and dark rose cumberbunds circulated among the crowd with silver trays while others manned the grills. No hamburgers. No hot dogs. The succulent smells of steak and chicken. I glanced at the nearest serving table and saw steaks piled high on trays labeled in calligraphy—well done, medium, or rare. Barbecued chicken halves filled other trays. The female staff, dressed like the male servers, kept the tables full and neat.
My brother Frank called out, "Callie!" as he approached Levi and me. "Where’s Jane?"
"She’s not feeling well. You remember Levi, don’t you?" I motioned toward him. "He was at my birthday party last summer."
"I remember. How you doing, Levi?"
"I’ll be better when we find out where to put this box."
"There are tables over there," Frankie pointed out.
We maneuvered through the crowd toward a group of tables piled high with elaborately wrapped boxes and colorful gift bags overflowing with bright tissue. At least a hundred people milled around the pool and the food tables—balancing plates and picking at food and each other. No need to have worried about what I wore. Clothing ranged from almost formal to bikinis.
"Can you believe bikinis in October?" I asked no one in particular.
"Can’t beat a late hot spell on the South Carolina coast," Levi said and put the package on one of the tables. "I’ll get us something to drink. What would you like?"
"White wine would be nice."
"Forget it," Frankie said. "They’ve got all this food—appetizers, trays of breads and meats, salad bar table, baked potato bar table, dessert bar table, but no bar. The only drinks available are lemonade and iced tea.
"I’ll have unsweetened tea," I said.
"No, you won’t. All the tea is sweet. Apparently that’s how Molly’s aunts like their tea."
I was glad he didn’t add his personal opinion about this because just then Bill and two elderly ladies joined us. He wore gray dress slacks and a white shirt with a narrow gray stripe. The collar was open, and it struck a nice cross between dressy and casual.
The women were eighty years old if they were a day, but their eyes sparkled and each of them had a sprightly step. Like the guests in shorts and bikinis, the twins had dressed for the weather, not the calendar. They both wore flowered summer dresses, but thank heaven, they weren’t dressed exactly alike. One wore shades of lavender; the other, shades of blue. My bosses, Otis and Odell, are identical twins, but Otis has hair implants and wears black suits while Odell shaves his head and only owns midnight blue suits. Molly’s aunts had white hair, but their hairdressers used different rinses. One was light blue while the other was pale lavender.
"Aunt Nina," Bill said and nodded toward Blue Lady. Then he gestured toward Lavender Lady. "Aunt Nila," Bill continued, "I want you to meet my sister Callie, her friend Levi, and my brother Frank."
The aunts smiled and offered handshakes to each of us. I immediately thought mnemonics—the way I’d learned students’ names by creating associations when I was a teacher. Blue was Nina, both hair and dress. No connection there, but the "L" in Nila went with lavender.
Nina interrupted my thoughts in an exaggerated drawl, "Make y’allselves at home now and partake of all the food and drink. Molly is our only niece, and we want this to be a real party for her and Bill here." She motioned toward Bill. Like we didn’t already know him!
Nila interrupted, "Ah just wanted this to be a touch of the Old South, a real southern gathering. We don’t have many occasions to host social events any mo-ah. Ah tried to talk Nina into having a Mint Julep table, but she was afraid we might offend some of the Parrish family."
I dang near choked to keep from laughing. Alcohol in moderation does not insult anyone I know of in the Parrish family. Oh, Daddy doesn’t believe I should drink because he treats me like I’m still a child, but the Parrish family members think a little alcohol, in moderation, livens up any gathering.
Bill moved on to introduce The Aunts to other guests. I call my five brothers The Boys, with capital T and B, because I don’t think they’ll ever grow up. I thought of Aunt Nina and Aunt Nila as The Aunts, with capital T and A, because they’re unique. Good grief! Did I just relate Molly’s aunts to T and A? I’m sure Daddy wouldn’t think I knew what those initials stand for, but I did. The sisters weren’t fat, but their soft pillow plumpness hid their figures. T and A weren’t noticeable. They reminded me of one of the ladies in Arsenic and Old Lace.
"Come here, Calamine." No mistaking my father’s voice. He sat at a little round table with two young people. He didn’t look as much like a sixty-ish Larry the Cable Guy as he usually did. He was wearing khakis and an open neck light blue sports shirt. My brothers aren’t always the brightest bulbs in the chandelier, but Frankie took advantage of our dad calling only me and turned the other way as I headed toward Daddy. Levi followed him.
"Megan! Johnny!" I shrieked when I recognized the kids. My niece and nephew from Atlanta! We hugged and I sat with them.
"Want me to get you some food?" Johnny asked in a voice that rose and fell with the tones I remembered from having listened to five brothers as their voices changed from child to man. Daddy and the kids had plates piled high.
"I’ll go and be right back," I answered.
At the table, I lusted for potato salad and pasta salad, but I settled for tossed veggies and a small bowl of sliced fresh fruit. Of all the cheese and cracker selections, I chose brie and imported water crackers. No need to eat cheddar and Ritz. I keep that at home.
Back at the table, fifteen-year-old Megan said, "Aunt Callie, aren’t you going to eat a steak?"
"I sure am. This is just for starters." I set the plate on the table. "Be right back. I need something to drink."
The tea and lemonade were being served from punch bowls. The line for tea was twice as long as the other, so I asked for lemonade.
A youngster about twelve years old had reached the front of the tea line. "Sorry," the server said, "Lemonade for you." She turned toward me. "Will you let her in front of you? We’ve been told not to serve tea to minors because of the caffeine."
I nodded, but the rationale seemed strange. It’s not uncommon in the South to see toddlers drinking tea from baby bottles.
When I returned, John and his wife Miriam had joined Daddy and the kids. John was sitting in my chair, but he pulled one up for me. At first, I felt a little nervous around the couple. The last I’d heard, there
were headed toward separation. Had they gotten back together or had they come as a family to tell the rest of us they were divorcing?
"Molly showed me the attendants’ dresses earlier this afternoon," Miriam said to me. "That peach color will be so beautiful on you with your hair that shade of auburn, and I just love everything being in fall colors." Peach? I thought. That dress is orange! I’m eating salad here because I don’t want to look like a pumpkin! I thought that but kept my mouth shut.
Daddy pulled a bandana from his pocket and swiped his brow with it. "If this heat wave doesn’t let up, they need to change the colors to red, white and blue because it feels like the Fourth of July."
"Surely the heat wave will end before the wedding. It’s the end of the month, isn’t it?" John asked.
"October thirtieth," I agreed, thinking, those pumpkin-colored dresses would have been perfect for a Halloween wedding.
"Where is Molly?" Daddy asked.
"I saw Bill, but not Molly." Me.
"She told me she’d be a little late." Miriam. "She wanted Bill to wait and come with her, but he insisted on being on time because most of his friends wouldn’t know Molly’s aunts." She looked at my plate. "I’m going to get some salad," she said and turned toward Bill. "Do you want to come with me?"
"Sure," he said, "but I think I’m going to skip the vegetables and go for steak and potato. Want me to bring you back a piece of chicken, Callie?"
"No, I’m not that food-conscious today. Bring me a steak—medium."
We chatted as we ate. Megan and Johnny told Daddy and me about their schools this year. Megan was excited that she’d soon be old enough for her driver’s permit.
Ker-splash! I assumed one of the guests in bathing suits had braved the pool, but
Johnny broke into loud guffaws and pointed over my shoulder toward the sound. I turned to look. Some of the guests had ganged up and thrown Bill in—fully clothed. He spluttered and came up laughing. Just then, Molly made her entrance down the back steps of the house. She held two poodles, one in each arm. Either poodles come in orangey peach or she’d had them dyed to match the attendants’ dresses for the wedding.