After finishing their treats, Paige followed Tara around the first floor, all the while clutching her cup of coffee. The viewing parlor was a large room directly to the left of the front door. About fifteen pews on either side of the aisle ran up to the front of the room. Each pew was covered in one long crimson seat cushion, flattened from decades of use. Heavy gold curtains hung from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The more Paige saw of the funeral home, the more she knew just how outdated it was. It could really be a beautiful building if they did a couple of things, like tear down that retched green-and-gold wallpaper, which had also made an appearance in the viewing room.
“Down there is another hallway,” Tara said, pointing to a closed door. “There’s a room where the bodies are stored and then a cremation and embalming room where Juris works. The storage closets are down there too.”
Embalming. Gross, gross, gross.
“Juris?” Paige asked.
“Juris is my husband,” Tara said, her face lighting up. “He does the embalming but he’s also a taxidermist. If you see a stuffed animal anywhere in this county, my Juris did that,” she said proudly.
Paige’s mind immediately traveled back to the scary turkey at Skeeter’s Bait, Tackle, Guns, and Gas.
“Wow,” Paige said, trying her hardest to sound enthusiastic, but it was difficult because for some reason she was imagining a corpse with its arms lovingly wrapped around a dead stuffed cat.
“We met online,” Tara said, lowering her voice. “I’m from South Carolina originally, but I moved down here to be with Juris. I just knew that he was the one. You know, my soul mate,” she said with that same overjoyed expression.
Paige had never had that look on her face when she’d been talking about Dylan. She’d never gotten that giddy little catch in her throat either. He’d never made her weak in the knees or made speaking difficult. And then suddenly Paige’s brain flashed to Brendan, who had done those things. He’d almost kissed her yesterday; she’d wanted him to kiss her. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. His fingers curling around hers, the spicy scent of his skin as he’d stepped in close to her, the way he looked at her with his bright blue eyes.
What was wrong with her? She didn’t know anything about the man. She didn’t need to be thinking about him, and yet…she was.
“That’s wonderful,” Paige said, pushing Brendan to the back of her mind and refocusing on Tara.
“It is,” Tara said. “There’s another smaller parlor in the back of the building,” she said, switching back to tour guide, “but we don’t really use that one very much. If we have multiple funerals we might, but for the most part we use the main one. You can grab your purse,” Tara said as they walked back to the front of the funeral home. “From here it’s onward and upward.”
Paige followed Tara up the staircase to a long landing with doors scattered along both sides. Light streamed into the hallway from the opened doors and floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Verna and Missy’s offices are down there,” Tara said, pointing to the left. “Missy is at a conference, but she’ll be back next week,” she told Paige as they walked into the room next to the stairwell. “This is the showroom for the coffins,” she said, gesturing to over a dozen different coffins varying in color and size that were displayed on stands.
“This used to be two rooms way back when, but they tore the wall down to make it bigger.” They walked through the room and back into the hallway through another door in the room. “This room has all of the urns for when a person is cremated,” Tara said, leading Paige into the next room. “We also display the jewelry in here.”
“Jewelry?” Paige asked, following her in.
“Yeah, some people like to carry a piece of their loved ones with them.”
A piece? What did she mean by a piece?
“I’m sorry?” Paige asked, walking over to a display of necklaces.
“You see,” Tara said, opening the clasp on a pendant covered in amethyst. “You can put your loved one’s ashes in here,” she said, indicating a part inside the necklace.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” Paige said, feeling queasy.
“Oh, I wish I was,” Tara said, closing the necklace. “Other options are getting a thumbprint and wearing that.”
“I’m sorry, but this is bizarre.”
“Oh, believe you me, sweetie, I completely agree.”
Paige turned from the morbid, and more than a little disgusting, jewelry to a display of about thirty urns lined up on three tables. After a quick scan they left that room and continued the tour. Paige’s suspicions were confirmed as they walked down the hallway. Besides the kitchen and bathrooms, every inch of the building was covered in the horrendous crimson carpet.
“Those rooms are empty,” Tara said, indicating the very last two rooms down the hall. “But you’ll be in here,” she said, pushing a door open.
There were five big boxes stacked on the two desks that were in the middle of the room and an empty bookshelf in the corner. An old leather office chair and two wooden armchairs were pushed against one wall. The seats of the armchairs were covered in puce velvet. The walls were painted a seafoam green that wasn’t bad at all, but up against that obnoxious carpet it really had no hope.
“The offices on this side of the building have access to the second-floor balcony,” Tara said, pointing to the French doors in the corner that opened up onto the landing outside. “They also have a better view of the trees.”
“Thank you,” Paige said, giving Tara a genuine smile. She’d obviously tried to give Paige what she thought was the best office available.
“It’s no problem,” Tara said, waving away Paige’s thanks with her hand. “The computer is all yours. Mr. Adams got the best one for the new program that he wants you to start using. Verna had a fit when she ordered it last week,” she added, lowering her voice. “You can set up your office anyway you want. I put some office supplies in that box,” she said, pointing to one that was stacked on the desk. “If there’s something you need that isn’t in there, the closet is down the hall. Unfortunately it’s right next to Verna’s office, so if you need to go in there, prepare to be ambushed.”
“Thank you,” Paige repeated. “I really am grateful.”
“If you need anything I’ll be downstairs,” Tara said, leaving Paige to her own devices.
Paige walked to the desks and ran her hand over the smooth brown wood. They were antiques, carved and stained to emphasize the natural rings and spots. They were beautiful.
She grabbed the big leather chair and rolled it behind the desk. She sat down and slowly spun around to get a full view of her new office, taking an inventory of everything. Her eye caught on the corner of the room where the carpet met the floorboards. She got down on her hands and knees and pulled the corner of the carpet back. Underneath were hardwood floors. She stood up and took another long look around the room.
“Ms. Morrison,” a booming voice said from behind her. “How is everything?”
Paige turned to see Mr. Adams taking up the entire width of the doorway.
“Mr. Adams, please call me Paige,” she said, smoothing out her dress.
“All right, how is everything going, Paige?” he said, still saying Pie-ge instead of Paige.
“Very good. Tara showed me around.”
“Good, good. Well, you make yourself comfortable here.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and began to turn away.
“Mr. Adams?” she called after him.
“Yes?”
“How attached are you to this carpet?”
* * *
Brendan stared down into the engine of Paige’s Jeep. He’d just finished installing the new radiator and was checking to make sure that everything else was in working order. He pulled the support bar out from under the hood and let it slam shut. He got in behind the driver’s seat and started the engine, which purred to life.
The inside of Paige’s Jeep w
as just as loud as the outside. She had a big sunflower wrapped around the bar that attached her visor to the roof. Both visors had CD holders on them. He pulled out a couple of disks to see whom she listened to but he hadn’t heard of most of the artists. There was a pink-and-orange glass heart hanging from her rearview mirror and a blue-and-black robot bobblehead attached to her dashboard. Multiple hair ties were stacked on her gearshift and a zebra-print cover was around her steering wheel.
Brendan turned the car off and checked his watch. It was three thirty. He’d come into work early and was free to go by four since Wallace was closing. He made his way into the office and sat down behind the computer. He pulled up Paige’s customer information and looked for her phone number.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Morrison? This is Brendan King.”
“Oh. Hey, Brendan. What’s going on?”
“Paige’s Jeep is ready.”
“Well, she started her new job today. I’m going to have to go pick her up at five. Can we swing by afterward?”
“I can pick her up,” Brendan said before he even realized what he was saying.
“Really?”
“Yeah. She’s just up the road from here. That way you don’t have to drive all the way down here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Brendan repeated. “It’s no trouble at all. You said she’d be done at five?” he asked, looking at his watch.
It made sense for Brendan to go pick Paige up. She was just up the road, whereas if her father picked her up, he would have to drive all the way into town. Which would take him at least twenty minutes. It made more sense this way. He just wasn’t going to get off at four now, and he really didn’t mind at all.
* * *
Paige had been going nonstop since she’d started that morning. She’d pulled Tara away from her desk and down the scary, dead-body hallway to help her find tools in the storage room. Even though there weren’t any dead bodies in there at the moment, Paige was still completely creeped out going in there.
With her newly pilfered tools, Paige pulled up the carpet on one side of the room, rolling it as she went. When she’d reached the furniture, she’d dragged Tara upstairs to help her move the heavy desks to the other side of the room, sans carpet.
“These floors are beautiful,” Tara said, sitting down in Paige’s chair. “We should rip out all of the carpet.”
After the carpet was rolled up and dragged into the hallway, Paige went around the room and pried out the tiny nails around the edge. It was at this point that Verna stuck her head into the room.
“What in God’s name are you doing?” she screamed, outraged. “Mr. Adams is not going to approve of this.”
“He already said it was fine,” Paige said, giving her a sweet smile.
“Nothing is good enough for you, is it? You just have to come in here and wreak havoc,” she said as she stormed out of the office.
Yeah, Paige and Verna were going to get along real well.
By four o’clock she’d set up her desk and computer. She decided to start reading through the instructions on the program she was supposed to use. About an hour later, there was a knock on the door and Paige looked up to see Brendan leaning against the doorjamb. He was wearing his navy blue pants and shirt and his five o’clock shadow.
Dear God he doesn’t play fair.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, looking around. “I ran into Mrs. Wisenbacker downstairs, who yelled at me for helping the havoc-inducing harlot get a job. I see you’re making friends.”
“She didn’t like my shoes,” Paige said.
“What?”
“My shoes,” Paige said, turning in her chair so she could show Brendan her feet. “Apparently only harlots wear red shoes.”
He pushed off the doorjamb and walked into the room, stopping next to her desk. He looked down at her feet and his gaze slowly traveled up her legs. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she was thankful she was still sitting down.
“She’s crazy,” he said, finally meeting her eyes and grinning. “I’m a pretty big fan of those shoes.”
“What are you doing here?” Paige asked, trying to focus on something besides the way he was looking at her.
“I came to pick you up. Your car’s ready.”
“Why did you come to pick me up?” she asked, panicked. She wasn’t prepared to be in a close, confined environment with him.
“Because I told your dad I would. I can’t believe you ripped the carpet out of here,” he said, looking down at the floor. “It looks a lot better without it.”
“Thanks. Can you help me carry the carpet downstairs?” she asked, pointing to the hallway where the rug still sat.
“Are you serious?”
“I can’t carry it by myself,” she said, standing up. If he was here she might as well get him to do something useful besides scrambling her brain.
“What’s in it for me?”
“What do you want?” she asked, before she could stop herself.
She was flirting with him. Why was she flirting with him? Stupid thing to do really.
“I have a couple of ideas,” he said as his gaze flickered to her mouth.
There was another knock and they both turned to see Mr. Adams walk into the room.
“Brendan,” he said in his big booming voice.
“Mr. Adams,” Brendan said, holding out his hand.
“You come here to check up on your girl?” he asked, shaking Brendan’s hand and clapping Brendan on the back with one of his large hands.
His girl? Brendan’s girl?
Paige’s stomach flipped. She opened her mouth to correct him but Brendan cut her off.
“Yeah.” He winked at Paige. “She’s done a good job with this office.”
“She sure has,” Mr. Adams said, looking around. He looked down at the floor, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, I’ve been wanting to get rid of that red carpet for a while now. And these wooden floors are looking mighty fine. Maybe you’ve got something going here, Paige. Just leave that carpet in the hallway,” he said as he continued to study the floor. “I might not want to store it after all.”
“Really?” she asked, shocked.
“Yeah,” Mr. Adams said, looking at her. “Maybe we should change things up here a little. Did you get a chance to look at the tribute program?”
“A little. I’m going to really get into it tomorrow.”
“Alright, you two have a nice night together,” Mr. Adams said, backing toward the door.
“We will,” Brendan said, waving.
Paige was too confused to say anything besides “bye.”
“Your girl?” she whispered, turning to him when she heard Mr. Adams’s loud steps descending the stairs. “Why didn’t you correct him?”
“Because I didn’t want to,” he said, turning back to her. “But I can tell you I’m disappointed I can’t get the ‘whatever I want’ for helping you move your carpet now.”
“I didn’t say you could get whatever you wanted. I asked what you wanted.”
“I guess you did,” he said, letting his eyes dip to her mouth again.
“So, uh, what did you want?”
“Is the offer still on the table?”
“I don’t need you to move the rug anymore, so no.”
“Then I’m not telling.” He grinned.
She didn’t want to know what he wanted anyways…alright, fine, she really, really did.
“You ready to go?”
“Whenever you are,” he said, taking a step back toward the door.
Paige shut her computer down, grabbed her purse, and followed Brendan down the stairs.
“You done for the day, sweetie?” Tara asked as they stopped in front of her desk.
“Yes. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be waiting to hear all about your evening,” she said, giving the two of them a sly smile. “Have fun.”
“Oh, no—”
“We will,” Brendan said, cutting Paige off. “Night, Tara,” he said, putting his hand on Paige’s arm and guiding her out of the office.
Once they got outside, Paige pulled her arm out of his hand and elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his side. “What was that for?”
“You know exactly what that was for. You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”
“Having fun with what?” he asked as they made their way to his car.
“Letting people think we’re together.”
“Would that be so bad?” he asked as he smiled over his shoulder.
She stopped in her tracks as he continued to walk.
“You coming?” he called out. “Or are you going to walk?”
She caught up to him as he opened the passenger-side door of a black pickup truck. She eyed the high step carefully, trying to figure out how to get in. She reached up with one hand and, before she knew it, her other was in Brendan’s and he had a hand on her back helping her up.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to him when her butt was firmly in the seat.
The brief physical contact had shocked her, and she wanted to “accidentally” fall out of his truck so that he would have to help her in again.
“No problem,” he said, taking a step up onto the ledge of the truck and leaning in the cab toward her. His face was just a couple of inches from hers, his eyes focused intently on hers. “And Paige, it’s just a matter of time.”
“W-what is?”
He just grinned as he stepped down and shut the door.
Paige sat there with her mouth hanging open as Brendan rounded the truck. He opened the door and got in easily. He buckled his seat belt and started the engine, putting his hand on the back of her headrest as he looked behind himself and backed out.
Paige looked around, trying to focus on anything besides how close he was to her, or on what he’d just said. His truck was clean, no wrappers or sticky candy attached to the floor. There was a stack of papers stuck in the front right corner of the dashboard and a gym bag in the back seat. A black baseball hat with a stingray hung from the rearview mirror. There was a picture next to his speedometer of him in his teens. He was wearing a baseball uniform, which he easily filled out. Apparently he’d had muscles from an early age; they were just bigger now. His arms were stretched across the shoulders of a woman and a little girl. All three of them were wearing matching baseball hats and laughing as they looked at the camera.
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