Page 18 of Mourner for Hire
I lick my lips. “Please don’t tell me the secret ingredient is mayonnaise.”
She tosses her head back and laughs. “I’m not against committing crimes, but that is classified as a felony.”
This makes me laugh, and I set the half-eaten donut down on its plate and then on the table, letting my mind drift back to the business at hand. “So tell me, Annabelle, I understand you have a few tasks for me to take care of at your funeral?”
“Oh, wow. When you say it like that, it sounds funny, doesn’t it? Planning my funeral before I’m even on hospice.” She laughs a bit awkwardly, and it’s not unusual to have this response once we start talking about the plan.
“I know traditionally, people discuss their funeral with their children or spouses, sometimes even a lawyer. So I know this may seem a little weird, but I want you to know I have heard it all, and I am willing to do whatever you ask… within reason, of course. And I will make it very clear if I am unable to uphold any task.”
She nods. “Okay. And how will you know when I die?”
“I will have you on my Google Alert.”
“And payment?”
“Payment is most easily executed through a will. That way, if something were to happen to me before you die, you’re safe and will not have the payment taken out. Or, we can do what I call the good-faith payment. You pay me upfront, and I put in my will to reimburse you if you need a refund.”
She nods as if this is what she already expected.
“I know it’s weird. But the system works.”
“The will is perfect!”
She seems far too excited to discuss her death. I can’t tell if she’s excited to die or just thrilled to be in charge of the details.
Or she’s just weird. That’s also highly likely.
“Excellent. I can help draw up the clause, and you can forward it to your lawyer along with my contact information. Does that work?”
“Sure. I’m guessing you need to know who my executioner is, too?”
I startle, donut particles tickling my throat, making me cough.
“I’m sorry?” Because who is executing this woman?
Her laughter eases my worry that she’s on death row.
“That’s what I call the executor of my will.” She leans a little closer with a mischievous grin. “It’s more fun that way.”
“Ahh, yes. Usually, we get that out of the way so someone can be sure I do what is asked of me and then initiates the deposit.”
“God, this is all so transactional,” she breathes.
The way her spine stiffens, I can tell she is trying to remain professional when all she’d like to do is crack a joke.
I swallow the sticky, sweet taste in my mouth. “With all due respect, Annabelle, it is a business transaction. But I also want you to know I will handle the entire process with care.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“All right. So let’s go over your wishes. I assume you have the funeral arrangements somewhat organized, but where do I fit?”
She leans against the arm of the couch, a slow smile creeping over her fuchsia lips. “Don’t hate me…”
I tilt my head, confused.
“But I have a list.”
“Okay, well, depending on the items on the list, there may be an upcharge that I want you to be fully aware of?—”
