Page 72 of Mourner for Hire
“Absolutely.”
“Oh, bet! I can do that. I can deliver every night if you want. Even tomorrow?—”
“Well, I can’t tomorrow. I’ll be out of town for a funeral. But Monday? Are you working?”
“Yep. I work Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”
“Excellent. I’ll set a reminder on my phone, and I will make sure I get the chance to order everything I can on the menu, extra biscuits, delivered here.” I type it into the calendar on my phone.
Lucy is buzzing with excitement. “Thank you. Oh, man, thank you so much, Vada. This is going to be so dope!”
I laugh. “I have one condition.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“I get to see the photos you take of the eclipse.”
“Of course!” she practically cheers. “I can’t wait to tell my dad. He’s going to be so excited for me! Mom, too. And Grandma and Grandpa.”
“I’m excited for you! And for all the cheddar biscuits I’m going to eat these next few months.” I let out a soft laugh. “You said it’s your grandparents’ restaurant?”
“Since nineteen-seventy-three.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, Mom works there, too, but not Dad. He’s an EMT.” She pauses. “For the health insurance.”
I would laugh if curiosity and recognition didn’t consume my brain. “Oh, yeah? What’s your mom and dad’s names?”
“My mom is Joelle, and my dad’s name is Eli.”
The breath hitches in my throat, and my hand inadvertently flies to the top of my head. “Oh, that’s great. Maybe I’ll see them around.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she says. “Thanks again!”
And just like that, she skips down the path, her white sneakers kicking up sand as she goes. What have I now got myself into? I promised Dominic I’d lay low while I’m here. It’s not my fault his best friend’s daughter delivered my food.
TWENTY-FIVE
DOMINIC
“Dad! Guess what!”
Eli’s daughter runs into the bar wearing her Hungry Hermit baseball hat.
“Hey, no kids in a bar.” I point a finger at Lucy.
“Hey, Dunner.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at me expectantly.
I reach into my pocket and toss her a butterscotch candy. She catches it with two hands.
“What happened?” Eli asks.
“That new lady in town promised to pay for the rest of my telephoto lens,” she answers, unwrapping the candy and popping it into her mouth.
I slam the glass I was drying down hard enough for it to crack. If the early rejection from Hillsboro wasn’t enough to sour my mood, this tips the scales. “She did what?”
“She’s not crazy like you said, Dunner.”
