The Funeral Makers by Cathie Pelletier

each additional person on same photo add 50% to the price of the original photo.’”
    â€œAdditional person?” said Ed, looking for the first time at the model in the booklet. “Is Marge planning to take someone with her?”
    Pearl read the fine print carefully, straining to catch each word.
    â€œâ€˜When ordering pictures in natural coloring, be sure to state color of eyes, hair, and clothing. Your original photo will be returned.’”
    â€œMarge’s eyes are a yellow right now.” Ed was feeling the anger of years of having been associated with a family he didn’t like, because of a marriage he’d been tricked into. And the feeling was like having a horrible umbilical cord twist tighter and tighter around his neck. He really didn’t dislike Marge as much as his comments indicated. It was the whole family he was beating his words against. And he was especially hoping that Marvin might come to Marge’s defense so that Ed could stick a pin in his sore spot. But Marvin knew better and remained as silent as his pride would allow.
    â€œMaybe we could send her hair coloring in as dark brown, the way it used to be. Or at least the way she’ll look in heaven,” said Sicily, who had moved next to Pearl and was studying the woman in the picture. “You know who she looks like?” she said, tapping the page. “One of the clerks at Penney’s in Watertown.”
    â€œOK, Thelma,” said Pearl. “Write down Calvary 285, porcelain picture . Now does anyone have any idea about the epitaph?”
    â€œHow about ‘So Long, Marge’?” asked Ed. The beers had now started talking too.
    Pearl thought of all the times she had lain awake at night and cried because of how her family viewed her husband’s profession. And yet here was the college man they all fawned over. Mr. School Principal. “Mr. Alcoholic with a big belly and red nose,” she thought. She would tell Sicily later how rude she thought Ed was, would say it as a kind of retaliation for the way Sicily had treated Marvin, afraid to shake his hand or touch his clothes. And at first she was always saying, “What’s that awful smell in here?” every time Marvin came near her. But Pearl said nothing. It was best that Sicily found out Ed Lawler was a big failure all on her own. Pearl passed the Rockveil booklet to Thelma, who took it and turned to the list of epitaphs.
    â€œâ€˜Our Little Bird of Love,’” she read.
    â€œNo, that’s the epitaphs for kids. Read the grown-up ones.” Pearl was irritated that Thelma appeared so scatterbrained in front of Sicily and Ed. While Thelma looked, Pearl took the opportunity to pile a few goodies on a paper plate, which was the only reason she relinquished the booklet in the first place. It was a good weapon to have, that booklet, and she hated to see it go. In her hands it was as good as having something shiny on the end of a string, like hypnotists do, because the whole family kept their eyes on her. Biting into a slice of mincemeat pie, she turned to Sicily and said, “This looks like you been busy in the kitchen.”
    â€œâ€˜Death Loves a Shining Mark,’” read Thelma, with enough fervor and interpretation that it could have been the opening line of Romeo and Juliet .
    â€œSounds like a younger person,” Sicily said as she passed Pearl another brownie. This part was more literary and she enjoyed it as much as if it were a recital.
    â€œâ€˜Til Morning Breaks and Shadows Flee.’”
    â€œI don’t understand that one,” Sicily said, and Thelma took it as a sign to go on.
    â€œâ€˜The World Is a Better Place for Her Having Lived,’” Thelma soliloquized. There was a tremendous silence in the room. Not even Ed attacked that one and Thelma, finally taking the hint, moved on to the next.
    â€œâ€˜Asleep in Jesus’?” she