Operation Gigolo
"After thirty-five years of marriage, your father should let me be on top!"
Lynn Morgan cradled the phone against her shoulder and began sorting through the messages on her desk. "I can't see what difference it makes who's on top, Mom. We're just talking about bodies, here." She glanced up to see Tony Russo looking amused as he leaned against the doorjamb of her office. "Dead bodies," she added for Tony's benefit.
His eyebrows lifted. "That's beside the point," her mother said. "It's the prin- ciple of the thing ."
Lynn knew this terrain well. Mediating her parents hare- brained battles had prepared her to become a lawyer, accord- ing to her friends. She offered her mother the expected dose of logic. "Shouldn't it depend on who goes first?"
"That's what he says, and it would be just like him to outlive me so he could be on top! I want a guarantee of my final position ."
Lynn looked at Tony and rolled her eyes. "Suppose you do go first. You want to be dug up so somebody can slide him in underneath you?" "Why not?"
"Because we're not talking about rearranging leftovers in the refrigerator! Really, Mom, this is—"
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