“Okay, fair, but you’re gonna need more coffee.”
“So much more.”
Tom headed into the office with Aaron dragging behind him, spying Earl at the dispatch desk with Gerald and Mr. Crosby flanking either side of him. He didn’t see Junior thankfully, and he hoped he wouldn’t see him until much later.
Like after lunch.
Or never.
That would be good, too.
“Morning, guys!” Tom called out.
“Morning,” Gerald muttered, flipping through a yellowing folder. It looked like a preneed file, a set of funeral arrangements made prior to death. Probably for one of the people who had passed away last night.
“Good morning, Tom.” Earl waved. “Hey, Aaron.”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Mr. Crosby said, offering a kind smile. A strong wind would have been enough to blow him over if he didn’t have his cane, and he was as white and wrinkled as all the papers in the waste bin next to Earl’s desk.
“Gonna be a hell of a day, so I hope you’re all wearing clean underwear,” Earl quipped.
“Clean and starched.” Tom smiled and handed Earl the fast-food bag. “Ham biscuit?”
“Oh, I always knew I liked you, Tommy Boy!” Earl exclaimed, eagerly opening up the bag and breathing in the contents. “I don’t care what Aaron says about you, you’re okay in my book.”
“Thanks again for yesterday,” Tom said, gesturing to his lip. He still had a small scab where it had been split open, but it felt much better now.
Earl gave him a thumb’s up and mumbled something positive through a mouthful of biscuit.
Tom sat down at his desk, sipping on his tea as he waited for Mr. Crosby to get started. The senior employee usually led these morning huddles and gave out the assignments for the day.
“Hmm. Well, now. This everyone?” Mr. Crosby asked, glancing around with a little frown. “Where’s Mr. Frakes?”
“Mr. Frakes died four years ago,” Gerald reminded him flatly.
“No excuse,” Mr. Crosby scolded. “We’ll need to start docking his pay if he continues to be tardy.”
It was worth mentioning that Mr. Crosby might very well be losing his mind.
“Now,” Mr. Crosby said, raising his voice to fill the small room. “We have four new calls. Scott and Bubba—”
“Bosco,” Gerald quietly corrected. “Bubba quit.”
“—Are going to be late, but I shall not dock their pay because they asked me for permission as they should. That’s what responsible employees do. Communication is key for all of us to serve our families to the absolute best of our ability.
“Mr. Ayers will be waiting on the Delaney family. He’s already found the preneed file, and it’s going to be a Jewish burial at the Mordecai Hebrew Cemetery. Tom?”
“Yes, sir?” Tom replied.
“Is the prep room clear so the Chevra Kaddish can come in for the bathing later this evening?”
“Mrs. Winslow and Mr. Dresser are both still in there, but Mrs. Winslow will be up front by this afternoon for her first viewing. We can move Mr. Dresser to a dressing table and place him in one of the other viewing rooms until the Chevra are done with the washing.”
“Very good,” Mr. Crosby said. “I’ll be calling the Powell family. The notes from the first call Bubba took suggest it will be a direct cremation, but I suspect they may wish to view considering the toilet circumstances in which he died. That just leaves the Hun family and the Lowery family. Aaron?”
“Huh? Yes, sir?” Aaron’s head snapped up from where he’d been dozing off.
“They’re all yours.”
