The Funeral Planner by Lynn Isenberg Read Free Book Online

name just one. Relatives who can’t make it to a funeral can see it online or see a video about the client’s life…or how about this—interface with the Internet so people can send e-mails with secret messages, important financial information, or just stuff they wanted to say and couldn’t to whomever upon, you know, expiration…”
    “Start with the facts, Maddy. How many funeral homes are there in the U.S.? And how many services do they perform on average every year?” He pauses while I take it in, nodding and thinking. “You’ll have to study the competition, too,” he adds.
    “Competition? What if there isn’t any?”
    “Believe me, if you thought of it so will someone else, if they haven’t already. Besides, you want that—keeps you on your toes, makes you stronger. Without an enemy you lose the challenge to grow. Healthy competition is good. Remember Sun Tzu?”
    “Okay, okay…so approach this with Sun Tzu’s advice in hand. ‘If you know yourself, but not your enemy, for every battle won, you will lose another.’”
    He smiles. “That’s my girl. Now, how are you going to finance this?”
    “I’ll write a business plan and approach some venture capitalists. But it may take months. I need to find a consulting job or go to a temp agency to pay the bills.”
    “The idea’s too good, Maddy. How about if I become your angel investor?”
    “What? You? Why?”
    “Why not? Besides, I like to bet on ideas now and again. And Banks Baits, ‘the baits you can bank on’ is long gone. I could use something to keep me on my toes. What do you say? I’ll be your silent collaborator and put in fifteen thousand to cover your living expenses and administration fees for the next four months while you develop a business plan and do your due diligence.”
    “I don’t know what to say, Uncle Sam. What kind of equity do you want?”
    “None.”
    “No. I have to give you something or I won’t do it,” I insist.
    “Pay me back when you make a profit. No interest required. How’s that sound? And there’s no time frame on this. Never paying me back is fine, too.”
    “That’s unbelievable,” I say, thrilled, and for once feeling truly supported, not just in a financial sense, but in an emotional one, because more than anything the money represents Uncle Sam’s belief in me.
    “One other thing, Maddy. I’m throwing in an extra thousand for you to buy new clothes and treat yourself to a manicure, pedicure, facial and a massage.”
    “Why? I don’t look good?”
    He chuckles. “You look great, Sunshine, but I want you to feel great. Now, go determine the needs of the industry and then create your solutions.”
    I don’t have the answers right now, but it’s only a matter of time before I do and I am not about to waste another minute.
     
    I research facts and figures about the funeral industry online from my modest apartment back in Los Angeles. But I need more than Google can provide. I’m thinking about where I can get access to LexusNexus and other more formidable search engines, when my phone rings.
    “Maddy Banks,” I answer, not recognizing the caller ID number.
    “Uh, yeah, um, Eve Gardner here,” says a young female on the other end. “Professor Osaka said we’re to meet.”
    “Professor Osaka?”
    “Yeah, you’re the grad he wants me to do an internship with…from UCLA.”
    “Oh, yeah, I completely forgot,” I say, remembering how he inveigled me into this. “Look, I’m really busy right now—”
    “So am I,” she says, cutting me off. “But I need the credits to pass this year and if I don’t pass my father is going to have a shit fit. Osaka insisted I be flexible for you, which I have to tell you is not my style.”
    I stare at the phone. What had Professor Osaka sent me? Then it dawns on me—the UCLA library. I reel the phone back in, remembering, too, that internships include free labor.
    “Okay, Eve, meet me outside the UCLA library in thirty minutes. Don’t