Page 19 of Mourner for Hire
She swats the air and pulls out a piece of folded up printer paper from behind her tasseled throw pillow. She unfolds it and slaps it on the coffee table.
A twist of fear twitches in my gut as I slowly lean forward to inspect the requests.
Attend funeral—you won’t need to introduce yourself. But if the need arises, just say you’re an old family friend.
I want you to stay at my beach cottage after the funeral while you renovate it. Please don’t say no and hear me out. I have a beach cottage on the south end of Shellport. It is small and falling apart, but I promise it will have heat and running water at all times. Do as you wish with the décor style. While you renovate, you will discover a closet in the hallway of the cottage filled with shoeboxes of pictures. Please organize these for my son. It’s tedious and I refuse to do it. I am hiring you. Thank you in advance.
I want you to hike the Milton’s Mailbox on a Monday morning at sunrise. At the top of the hike, there is a mailbox. Please bring a letter that includes something or someone that you miss. Humor me. I will be watching from Heaven’s gates, making sure you do this.
I’d like you to visit the farmers market on the first Saturday of the month and buy a shell necklace from Martha. She’s seventy, but I swear that woman will die before she quits the farmers market.
When the renovation is complete, I would like you to throw me a party atthe beach house. Not a funeral. I want it to be a celebration where there is food and cake and love. Make sure everyone is dancing and remembering how much they love me. If anyone says anything bad about me, kick them out.
Look out for Dominic. He hurts quietly. And he is very hot and cold when he grieves.
And last, I hope you find it.
Find what?
My smile comes and fades as I read this list. She’s quirky and very unlike any of my other clients. I clear my throat and fold the paper. “These are quite the tasks, Annabelle. I’m a little concerned you may have misunderstood exactly what it is I do.”
“In your ad, you said you will make each funeral exactly how the deceased wants it. This is what I want.”
I chew on my lip, pondering how to let her down easy. I have no business saying yes to any of this. It’s bad enough to make a fool of myself at a funeral and then stay for a few hours—I can’t even imagine staying around and pretending to be a part of, well, anything for months after the funeral.
“I know what you’re thinking, and no, they will not run you out of town. That is, unless you put ketchup on steak, but you don’t seem like the type.” She laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “We’re nice in Shellport… mostly.”
“I mean, the renovation alone is?—”
“You will have an unlimited budget to spend, I promise. Plus, I know about Chantilly Lace.”
