Page 146 of Mourner for Hire
I hesitate again before finally saying, “She looks like your mom. And she talks all the time.” I say the last three words with emphasis.
“All the time?” Dominic shouts back at me.
I realize what he means. There have been one too many intimate moments between us for the idea of her constant presence to be anything but awkward, uncomfortable, and inappropriate.
I laugh, and Annabelle groans into her hands. “No, I’ve actually been teaching her boundaries.”
Annabelle tsks, and Dominic cocks an eyebrow. “From the grave?”
I shrug and smile at Annabelle as she rolls her eyes. “Your mom is pretty amazing, Dominic.”
“I know,” he answers, tears clouding his amber eyes.
“I’m surprised you’re being so understanding about this,” I comment.
He sniffs. “Vada, I’m obsessed with ghost podcasts. Of course I believe you.”
I laugh; he and Annabelle do, too.
“I just wish it were me, you know? That got to see her.”
I nod.
“I wish it were you, too,” Annabelle says to Dominic, and I offer her a sly smile. “I mean, you’re great, too, Vada, but I miss talking to my boy.”
“I bet he misses talking to you, too.”
Dominic realizes I’m not talking to him and blows out an emotional breath. “I think I need to go for a walk.”
I nod in understanding, and he slips out the front door before I can even respond.
Annabelle and I stand, blank-faced, in the middle of the cottage’s living room.
“Did I just lose him?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“I just told him I see his dead mother, and he left faster than I said the words.” I cross my arms and lean against the kitchen counter.
“He believes you.”
“Right,” I agree, reluctantly. “But he might also believe that all this is too much…” I wave my hand around the cottage and toward the ghost in front of me. “He might also believe that I’m too much.”
Annabelle shakes her head. “You may be too much for some people. But not Dominic. I know my son. And he’s pretty damn lucky he fell in love with you.”
After Dominic leftfor his walk, Annabelle followed to make sure he was okay. I reminded her he went on the walk for space and she reminded me that doesn’t work with her personality. So I spent the day cleaning and fluffing pillows, perfecting the cottage as if it’s being staged for sale. I confirm catering for the celebration tomorrow night and make another separate checklist for all things eclipse-related, and then glance at the whiteboard still propped in the kitchen.
There are only three items left.
2 more picture boxes
Throw the party during the eclipse
Get the fuck out of this town
I wipe away the first item and stare at the last item. The laugh that bubbles out of me leaves a swipe of melancholy in my gut.
I blow out a breath and head to the closet to grab the remaining boxes of photographs.
