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Glancing around, Aaron mumbled, “Hey, where’s Junior?”

“He’ll be in this afternoon to take the Winslow family in for the first viewing,” Gerald replied, snapping the preneed file shut. “You can handle two families, can’t you, Aaron?”

Aaron didn’t look like he could handle keeping his eyes open, but he confirmed, “Yes, sir.”

“Gerald is on Delaney, Mr. Crosby is on Powell, Aaron has Hun and Lowery. Junior will see the Winslows this afternoon.” Earl was muttering to himself as he took notes. “Hey, Tom, wait, what are you doing again?”

“Getting Mrs. Winslow ready for her first viewing,” Tom replied. “I’ve done her make-up, but Miss Edie still has to do her hair. I’ll also be getting the prep room ready for the Chevra Kaddish to come in for the Taharah tonight.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s go build some enduring relationships with families in need.” Mr. Crosby beamed, ushering for everyone to disperse. He took some paperwork from Earl’s desk and began to head to his office.

Wordlessly, Gerald tucked the preneed file under his arm and followed behind him.

Aaron pulled himself out of his chair to grab the paperwork for the families he had to call and sighed loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, standing up to dispose of his tea.

“Mr. Crosby took the paperwork for the Lowery family instead of the Powell family.” Aaron yawned. “Now I have to go get it from him before he calls them to make the appointment for the arrangement conference and expresses his condolences for their father passing when it was the Lowery’s mother who died.”

“Good luck.”

“Oh, and before I forget, the Dresser family wanna see their son tomorrow morning. I set it for ten o’clock. They’ll be bringing his clothes by sometime today.”

“Sounds good. Casket ordered?”

“They gotta make up their mind today when they come in to sign the contract. They’ll be here at eleven. I’ll let you know.” Aaron paused, leaning in unusually close. “Hey, are you wearing a new cologne?”

“Yeah?” Tom grinned. “Do you like it?”

“Smells funky. Like, a really good kind of funky.” Aaron paused. “It’s kinda like orange tea. I like it.”

“Thanks.” Tom smiled, pleased his bold choice was going over well so far and headed into the back to get started while Aaron dashed up front to stop Mr. Crosby from calling the wrong family.

First thing’s first. He had to fix the inventory. He let himself into the locked supply closet and adjusted the numbers quickly to cover what he’d taken. He felt a little relieved to have that vital task out of the way and next turned his attention to the deceased people.

He moved Mr. Dresser onto a dressing table, a folding table with wheels used to help move deceased people around and dress them upon before casketing. It was also used for viewings in place of a casket or cremation container if a family hadn’t made a decision yet. He made sure to keep Mr. Dresser’s hands and head properly positioned as before and covered him back up with a sheet.

Mrs. Winslow was next, and Tom was extra careful when moving her as to not disturb all the heavy makeup and restorative work he’d done. After she was settled, he cleaned both embalming tables and wiped everything down with disinfectant.

He got Mrs. Winslow dressed in the sharp blue pantsuit her family had brought for her to wear for burial, but he had to cut the jacket up the back or else it wouldn’t have fit.

Altering clothing was a common part of the job. Families would often bring things their loved ones hadn’t worn in decades, and it took a bit of magic to make it work.

That, and a pair of scissors.

Purists like Gerald and Mr. Crosby detested cutting clothes for the deceased, and Tom did try to avoid it when he could. Considering how many hours of work he’d put into Mrs. Winslow’s face and that her jacket was at least two sizes too small, he felt pretty justified to go ahead and cut it.

Just as he was slipping Mrs. Winslow’s shoes on to complete her outfit, the prep room door beeped and in walked Aaron.

“Hey, I’m sorry to drop poo guy on you,” Aaron began, pausing to stifle a yawn and waving a piece of paper, “but Mr. Crosby got off the phone with his family, and they want to see him when they come in for their arrangement. Basic prep, no embalming.”

“What time?”

“Two o’clock.”

“And the Winslows are still coming at three, right?”