When word got out at Still Meadows that Verbena Wheeler had arrived, Elner Shimfissle in particular was happy to have her old friend back. After Verbena said hello to her relatives, Elner was the next to greet her.
“Hey, Verbena, I’m so glad you’re here, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, I went to your funeral and sent you flowers.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reciprocate.”
“That’s all right. You know, Elner, Luther Griggs bought your old house.”
“Yes, I know. How do you feel, honey?”
“Well, I feel good. My hip doesn’t hurt anymore, but I don’t mind telling you, Elner, I’m not happy.”
Elner was surprised to hear it. “Oh? Why not, hon?”
“I hate that I’m dead, that’s why. I’ve been saving for ten years to be able to make that trip to California, and now I’m not ever going, and the ticket was nonrefundable.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How did it happen—were you sick?”
“That’s the other thing. All my life, I just knew I’d die funny. Here I lived my whole life trying to be a lady. I never cussed, I never smoked in public. You know, Elner, I always carried a clean handkerchief, never missed a Sunday service, and then at the end, my damn toilet exploded and shot me right through the ceiling.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. I hope to God they kept it out of my obit. And I’ll tell you something else. Justin Klump has no more business calling himself a plumber than a chicken does an ice-skater. When the thing first started acting up, I told Merle to call O’Dell Plumbing. But no, he said they were too expensive. You know what a cheapskate he is. Remember when he bought all that surplus artificial grass? None of it was the same color. And that secondhand walk-in tub? The thing never did work. Always penny-wise and pound-foolish. And I hope he enjoys that extra ten dollars he saved. Now I’m dead, and he’s a widower.”
“I’m so sorry you missed your trip to California, but try to look on the bright side. At least you didn’t die young.”
—
ELNER WAS SO GLAD Luther had bought her old house. He had practically been raised there.
Luther had done so poorly in high school that he had almost been ready to give up, but Elner had kept saying to him, “Honey, everybody is good at something. The trick is to find out what it is.” And thankfully, he had. Right after high school, he got a job through Ander over at the dairy, driving a fourteen-wheeler truck. And for a boy who had a D average, he made very good money and had been able to marry his girlfriend, Bobby Jo.
Unfortunately for Bobby Jo, Luther’s idea of a good time was to pack up and drag her to every auto, truck, and recreational vehicle show within five hundred miles. He said, “It’s business, honey. In my line of work, I have to keep up with all the latest automotive innovations.” Of course, that was a bald-faced lie. He just loved cars and trucks.
Cathy Calvert was in a real dilemma over how to word Verbena Wheeler’s obit. Her father, who had started the newspaper, had always stated cause of death, and now her readers had a flying fit if she didn’t include it.
She had tried leaving it out once when old Mrs. Speir had eaten a bad oyster at Arnold’s Seafood Restaurant (Arnold was one of her biggest advertisers, and Mrs. Speir was 102), but her subscribers had burned up the phone lines.
“Why did she die?”
“I want to know what killed her!”
“Don’t just say she died. We want details.”
She learned the hard way to never withhold pertinent information, and Arnold’s went out of business anyway. But this was different. Verbena Wheeler’s demise was an extremely delicate situation that walked the line between the public’s right to know and a titillating invasion of privacy. And so, after wrestling with just exactly how to word it, Cathy skimmed over the specific details with the phrase “fluke and tragic household accident.”
But even though she tried her best to protect Verbena, word spread, and everyone found out exactly what had happened, especially after Merle sued Klump Plumbing, and the details came out. And yes, some insensitive people did have to suppress the tendency to laugh at the thought that someone flushing their toilet had caused it to explode, sending it and its occupant straight up through the ceiling.
However, the real tragedy of Verbena’s demise was that on the day in question, Verbena hadn’t really needed to use the bathroom. She was on her way out to the store and sat down, just in case. A completely preemptive gesture on her part. And when nothing happened, she’d flushed the toilet only out of habit. Of course, this was something only Verbena knew and did not share.
—
THREE MONTHS LATER, VERBENA’S husband, Merle, arrived. After he had been greeted by Lucille Beemer, he said, “So, this is the hereafter…the great by and by I’ve heard so much about.”
“That’s correct, Merle.”
“Well, thanks for your welcome and all the information, Lucille. But let me get this straight. You say that sometimes people up here just disappear?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody has ever come back?”
“No, and until one does, I’m afraid it remains a mystery.”
Elner Shimfissle, as was her habit, suddenly started singing, “Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you.”
Birdie Swensen whispered to her husband, “Why is it that the ones who can’t carry a tune are always the ones singing?”
Norma was feeling blue. This was her first Christmas without Aunt Elner, and to make things worse, when she woke up on Christmas morning, Macky was gone. That was not like him. And on Christmas, too, when he knew darn well she was depressed. She got up, put on her robe and slippers, and went down to the kitchen. The coffee was on, but Macky and his car were gone, and there was no note. He usually left a note. What in the world? She called his cellphone number, and, after a long time he picked up.
“Where are you?”
“Sorry. I had to run out a minute, but I’m on my way home.” And then he hung up. She fixed herself a cup of coffee and went back upstairs. Now she was irritated. He knew it scared her to wake up alone with no note or anything. About five minutes later, she heard the front door.
When she came back downstairs, he was sitting in the living room grinning from ear to ear, and she saw that there was now a large package under the tree.
She sighed. “Oh, Macky. I told you not to get me anything. We promised no presents this year.”
“Open it,” he said.
“All right…but I hope you didn’t go and spend a lot of money. Let me get some more coffee.”
“No, I want you to open it now.”
As she walked over, she heard some strange sounds coming from the package. “What in the world?” When she pulled the paper off the top and looked inside, there was a litter of six gray striped kittens all mewing at the same time.
“Oh, my God. Macky, have you lost your mind? Where did you get these cats?”
“Santa Claus left them,” he said.