Ashes by Anthology Page A

the mirrors that lined the wall. He adjusted his tie and joined Stony in the parlor. Stony was in the spotlight, the star of the show, buffed and polished and ready to receive tribute. The viewing was even more important than the actual funeral, because the loved ones would be examining the guest, and therefore Gaines’ craft, at close proximity.
    The first loved ones came in the parlor and signed the memorial book with a brass-plated pen. Gaines watched to make sure the last signer returned the pen to its holder, then went over to greet them, putting on his funeral face as he went.
    More loved ones came. Stony had a lot of friends, relatives, and drinking buddies. Gaines solemnly shook hands with each. As they began filing past the guest of honor, Gaines stood against the wall with his hands clasped loosely over the lowest button on his black suit. His eyebrows furrowed in the proper mixture of sorrow and reverence, his jaw clenched so that his smirk of satisfaction wouldn't blossom like the lilies and tulips that girded the dais.
    Their tears, their joy, their final respect, all their emotions were due to Gaines' handiwork. This guest, James Rothrock "Stony" Hampton, was fit for heaven. This was a man they were all proud to have known. This man was one of God's finest and most blessed creations. As the organ music fed through the speakers, not an eye remained dry.
    Afterward, Stony's wife came up and gripped Gaines' elbow. Her eyes were wet and bright from too much spiritual uplifting. "He looks mighty fine, Mr. Wadell. Mighty fine."
    Gaines bowed slightly, tilting his head the way his father had taught him. "Yes, ma'am. We hate to see him go, but our loss is the Lord's gain."
    "You're so right," she said, dabbing at her face with a crumpled tissue. "And it won't be long till we're together again, anyway."
    "That will be a joyful reunion, ma'am," Gaines said politely, "but don't you go and rush things."
    "Well, this old heart can't stand up to much more. About worn down from ticking." Her skin had a slight gray pallor and was stretched tight around the bony angles of her face.
    Gaines figured she would be dead within the year. Another guest, another memory to be polished for loved ones, another star born. What Father said was true: The repeat business may not be all that hot, but at least the customers never complained.
    He said goodbye to the last loved ones, then locked up and returned Stony to the back room. Gaines removed his jacket and tie and hung them beside a mirror. He looked at his reflection, into the eyes that were the same color as Mother's. His face had the same oval shape as hers. But the blood, the liquid that his heart pumped behind the face and throughout his body, was all Wadell.
    Heart . What was it that Alice Hampton had said? Worn down from ticking.
    Mother had heart problems. But her doctors wanted to install a pacemaker. That would probably guarantee that she'd last another twenty years. Plenty of time to sell the funeral service and move away. Long enough to demolish everything that Gaines had trained toward since he was six years old.
    Gaines looked down and saw that his fists were clenched. He spread his fingers and willed them to stop trembling. Laura Mae Greene was waiting on a gurney in the walk-in refrigerator. She needed his skills. He would not disappoint her. Or her loved ones.
    He reached for his apron and mask, then slipped rubber gloves over his eager hands.
     
    "I'll be late tomorrow," Mother said. "I have to drive to Asheville for a checkup."
    "Do you want me to drive you?"
    "No. I know you have the Hampton funeral. I wouldn't want to take you away from your 'work.'"
    Gaines put down his fork.
    "What's the matter?" Mother said. She divided her filet mignon with delicate sawing motions.
    "Just thinking, that's all," Gaines said.
    "Let's not start." She sipped her wine. Sixty dollars a bottle. False pride.
    "Next year I was going to buy some acreage," he said. "Carve it into burial