Every Line of the Funeral Bill
“Yes, ma’am. I’d rather he hear it from you with the book open than from a man from the state.” He picked up his cap. “I’ll be at the shop tomorrow. He knows I’m not in the room.”
I put the slip in my purse under my billfold. He drank half a cup of tea standing up, and then he went home.
Which is how I came to be in the blue-carpeted office on Thursday morning with Les’s folder open on the desk, his shirt cuffs showing at the edge of his dark suit, and my sister’s purse clasp clicking under her thumb.
“Start at the top,” I said. “Basic services.”
“$2,350. As listed.”
“Transfer of remains.”
“$395.”
“Embalming.”
“$895.”
He read the first eight like a man reading a grocery receipt, sure of the ground. Dressing, $295. Church service, $495. Coach, $395. Flower car, $175. The vault, $1,150. They matched his list to the dollar. I let him have them. I ticked each one with my pencil, and I let my sister watch him be right.
Then I said, “Visitation.”
“Three days, $1,350.”
“Les,” Yvonne said, quietly. “It was one evening. Friday, five to eight.”
“Set up the day before, Yvonne. Taken down the day after. Stroud’s has always counted that way.”
“Read me your list, Les,” I said. “The line for visitation.”
He didn’t move.
“Please. Just the line.”
He turned the folder toward himself. His lips moved a little before the sound came out. “Visitation at the funeral home, $450 per day of public visitation.”
“Public visitation,” I said. “That’s your word, not mine. How many days was the public in your building?”
He looked at the wall. “One.”
“So that’s $450.”
“If you want to be technical.”
“I’m only trying to be accurate. Go on. What’s the next one?”
He ran his finger down. “Transfer of remains, after-hours rate. $810.”
“Where does your list say after-hours rate?”
“It’s standard. Everyone charges it. Art passed at ten to five in the morning. Travis and I got out of bed, we drove out there in the dark.”
“You did,” Yvonne said. Her voice shook. “And I thanked you. I’ll always thank you for that.”
“Then you understand it was a hardship, Yvonne.”
“Les,” I said gently. “Your price list says transfer of remains, any hour, within 25 miles, $395. I’m looking at it. The $395 is already on the invoice, two lines above. This is a second charge for the same drive.”
He took a breath through his nose.
“Next,” I said.
“Cemetery. Grave opening. $1,650.”
“Vince Rieger called me back last night,” I said. “He billed you $850.”
“There’s handling on that.”
“On the back of your price list it says cash advance items are passed along at your cost, with no service fee.”
“That was written a long time ago.”
“The date on it is this March.”
Les put his hand to his collar and loosened it a quarter inch. The air in that room was getting thin.