Grave Concern Read Free Page B

yanked off his dirty glasses and squinted meaningfully. Bill, or Billy, as she remembered him, their having parted scholarly company when Billy revisited Grade 3, clearly had some skepticism about the prospects of such a “quiet” (as he termed it) enterprise. But, as other offers for the space were not forthcoming, Bill acquiesced, on condition of a larger deposit than was, strictly speaking, necessary. Kate, meanwhile, considered her luck: Grave Concern’s tiny storefront came with its own fortuitously attached “office,” at one time the photo club’s small darkroom, which, being more or less useless for revenue generation, Bill threw in for free.
    Only once having signed the lease and moved into the new office space did Kate come to understand the full implications of the term “overhead.” First came the Mothers to Pin Setters (fondly, if inaccurately, known as the PMS league), a kind of self-help gathering of depressed postpartum moms who bowled their way to new life and sociability on Wednesday afternoons. Thursdays saw the disquieting descent of the Singing a New Toonie Head Pins, a motley collection of casual bowlers from up and down the valley. Each paid a toonie a time to be placed on a constantly shifting roster of teams, booked in week by week according to a complex algorithm developed and understood by none other than Foxy Raymond at the behest of the hapless Bill Chambers. Fridays saw the arrival of the Early Birds, a group of aged bowlers named not for the hour they bowled (ten till twelve), but for the hope that some gentle activity would, like their namesake, keep their nemesis, the worms, at bay. This sprightly crew had an unfortunate tendency to drop and dribble rather than actually bowl the balls, which made the last day of the week, which should have been a happy one for Kate, rather more migraine-inducing than ever.
    Regardless even of Kate’s innocence of the true implications of “overhead,” her confident lessee’s face had been a fake. Neither then nor now had Kate any idea how she’d keep up with the rent unless locals stepped up the dying. Grave Concern, after all, required a certain briskness of bodies. Why? Because, first, a critical mass must be reached to yield a sufficient subset of bereaved who would even consider Kate’s service; and second, it took time for those same bereaved to relinquish the guilt and fear of censure said service invoked.
    Kate kneed the computer’s ON button and plugged her camera in. She sincerely hoped the Niedmeyer photos would show all right, what with having been snapped just minutes ago virtually in the dark.
    Of Kate’s menu of grave-visit offerings, Adele had selected the Photo Finish option, which guaranteed same-day mailed or emailed Before and After photos of the grave, showing how the grave visitor (Kate herself, of course, barring expansion) had cleaned up the site and laid fresh flowers or whatever was requested. Photo Finish was the cheapest option; all options, in fact, included photos. Plot Driven, the next step up, added weeding and grass trimming around the stone itself as well as that of one unserviced family member plot. The Grave Beyond, Kate’s deluxe package, appended to the standard service both regular stone polishing and basic Photo Finish on a second grave of the client’s choosing. The Grave Beyond also allowed for special idiosyncratic requests, such as the verbal delivery of particular prayers, poems, songs, or confidences to the dead. Each option had further price points within it, depending on the specificity and frequency of visits.
    Luckily, it being winter, Kate had had little cleanup to do at Nathan’s grave. Actually, none. There wasn’t much action at the cemetery these days, the snow being calf-deep. However, she’d had to arrange the flowers so the pink showed up well against both snow (white) and stone (black). And find something suitable for a