by Scott Rhine
“I have the insurance money from the house now. If there’s anything—”
She cut me off. “The Council is paying all my medical expenses and for a live-in assistant while I heal.”
“Maybe the Rejects could come over and make you a few meals.”
Emma tried to remain silent, but the dam burst with a smile. “Actually, your father has been bringing me a lot of those. He keeps thanking me for saving you.”
I may have stressed her role when I told him the story, but it was hard to give her too much credit. I leaned in close. “Somehow, the other women in the community are taking this attention as a sign that he favors you. No one else will be making a play for him until you’ve recovered. By then, who knows?”
She looked surprised. “Are you setting us up?”
“I’m stepping back and letting the two of you work that out for yourselves.”
Dad swooped in. “Did I hear you talking about work? It’s too early for that. You need to rest.”
With a smile that reached her eyes, Emma said, “In the car ride over, Zak gave me an excellent idea how I can continue my lectures using a computer pad.” She wiggled her fingers. “Everything is at the perfect height for typing, and most of my notes can be made into slides.”
“Zak’s here?”
Dad jerked his thumb off to the side. While I’d been distracted, a tall man in a new suit had wandered in to offer his condolences to the families. He was accompanied by an attractive young woman who hugged Luca. Dina wore a tasteful, black head covering, probably a concession to her father. Despite the dour wrapping, she was in full bloom.
I dashed back to the line, leaving my dad and Emma debating her return to work on Monday. I koalaed Dina as soon as she let go of Luca. “Look at you! You’re so grown-up.”
Zak straightened his tie. “Comes with the job and responsibility.”
“I meant her, you goof.”
“Oh.” He glanced at her and grinned. “Yeah, she has.” All the Rejects peppered them with questions until the line backed up.
“Still enjoying the engagement?” I asked, leading Zak toward the caskets.
His answer surprised me. “I thought giving up my free time to hang out with her would be a huge inconvenience. Instead, even the little things we do together seem to mean more. She’s like MSG for life—enhances the flavor of everything.”
I teased him about it, but when I returned to the line, my friends all made faces like someone had shown them a puppy video.
“She’s so lucky,” said Luca.
Lilith nodded her approval. “Your brother’s easy on the eyes, has a job, and behaves like a gentleman.”
“See that napkin sticking out of his pocket with notes scrawled on it?” I whispered. “Probably another lunatic invention. He’s going to keep her busy putting out fires twenty-four-seven.”
Luca shrugged. “Sometimes a little fire gets your heart pumping.”
A tanned, forty-year-old stranger in a Polo shirt and khakis entered the funeral home near the end of the viewing period. Vincenzo almost chased him away, but I recognized his eyes, the same brilliant blue as Gran-gran’s. I rushed over and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be from San Francisco, would you?”
“Yes. I came for a job, but that’s obviously canceled. I thought I’d pay my respects before returning home.”
I led him toward the family line. “Did you know that Gran-gran was a painter, too? If you come to the house afterward, you can see some of her work.” Once he was shaking hands, I whispered to Luca, “Be very nice to him. It’ll really hack your mom off in an hour.”
She needed no other motivation to extend maximum courtesy. I tactfully informed Blaise’s grandmother that the oldest child had arrived so she could include him in the reading of the will.
After the service, she pulled me aside. “You’re a good girl.”
“Thank you. I do my best.”
“You saved my family’s reputation, despite what Harlow did.”
“How did you know?” Then I thought about what she used to do for a living. “As a judge, you can spot BS a mile away.”
“It was well-intentioned, so I didn’t call you on it.”
“What now?” I asked.
She handed me a little black book. “This is the insurance I used to keep Harlow out of harm’s way all these years. Don’t open it unless you’re in dire need.”
I tucked it away before anyone could see it. “Thank you?”
The judge chuckled. “In exchange for all you gave Blaise, I wanted to give you something else. This spring break, I’m going to fund that trip to Rome your friend Luca has been talking about, a Rejects memorial vacation. My granddaughter would’ve liked that idea very much. She talked about all of you with such affection.”
Eyes huge, I said, “I’d love it, but how are we going to get permission for me to leave the country?”
Leaning close, she whispered, “I’ll hint that you’re thinking about becoming a cloistered nun in Italy. The dark factions might even give donations to extend your stay.”
The irony appealed to me. “Sure. What could go wrong?”
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