Page 26 of Happy Is On Hiatus
Standing at the narrow double doors to the funeral home now, she turned away from the glass windows. She took in a slow breath, then released it in as calm a fashion as she could muster and said, “Fine.”
Her voice sounded much smaller than she’d intended, and for that she was just a little more pissed off. Truth be told, she’d been pretty irritable in the days since Desmond had first approached her in the courthouse. Her daily routine had felt off-kilter since that day, and try as she might, it didn’t seem to be getting better.
“I know this isn’t easy for you, Sharae. But I’m here to help. Once you get everything squared away at the funeral home, I’ll need you to send me a copy of the death certificate.”
For a minute, Desmond’s tone had also lowered, hinting at real compassion. Was that what she needed? Someone to feel sorry for her and this new situation she’d been thrust into? If so, she had her family for that. Desmond had a job to do, and he was hell-bent on doing it, so she squared her shoulders. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get that right to you. Listen, I gotta go.”
“Can I bring the paperwork to you tonight to sign? I’ve got court first thing in the morning, and I can take care of the filing then.” When she didn’t immediately answer, he continued. “The sooner we get the ball rolling, the sooner you’ll be able to unload everything and move on with your life.”
He wasn’t lying about that. So, against her own rules about not inviting people—especially lawyers who tracked her down to deliver bad news—to her apartment, she sighed and said, “Sure. You already have my address. I should be there around seven.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah, I guess I’ll see you too.” She disconnected the call before he could say anything else.
“Dammit,” she whispered. This was draining and uncomfortable, and she wished it were happening to someone else.
Not that she gave a damn about Sanford dying. She hadn’t seen him in twenty-seven years. Had never spoken to him or received a single letter from him in that time. Her chest burned with that realization. Had she wanted him to reach out to her?
Of course not. He was dead to her, the same way her mother was, long before he took his last breath in that prison hospital. Then what the hell was going on with her? Why was she having such a hard time digesting this situation? Letting herself lean back against the door, she lifted her fingers to her temple and massaged the dull ache that had started to form.
Two seconds later she was trying to keep her ass from hitting the floor as the door opened behind her.
“You gonna stand outside all night?” Jemel asked, then extended her arms to catch Sharae as she stumbled.
“Dammit, Jem!”
“What? You can’t yell at me after I’ve been sitting here for a half hour with Ditzy Dinah over there,” Jemel complained.
They moved inside and Jemel closed the door. Sharae had two seconds to take another breath before Dinah was in her face.
“Well, I’m glad you made it. You know I had to push some things back for you, but it’s okay. Let’s just get started.” Dinah spoke quickly as she glared at Sharae.
Rita stood behind Dinah, shaking her head as if to tell Sharae not to even bother replying to Dinah’s sarcastic tone. Admitting to herself that she was tempted, Sharae took another breath and managed, “I apologize for being late. I was held up at work.”
Rita was beside her now, touching a hand to her shoulder. “Oh no, was it about the other day?”
“It’s fine,” Sharae told her for what felt like the billionth time. “I took care of it just like I told you I would.”
Even if her taking care of it meant her boss was now on her ass, waiting for the barest slipup so he could send her back to narcotics. He hadn’t wanted her in homicide in the first place, but when she’d applied, there’d been a shortage of detectives and a surging crime rate in the Columbia area where she worked. It’d been almost impossible for him to turn her down, especially if he wanted to avoid a discriminationlawsuit against the department. None of that mattered because there was no way she was going to let those cops question Rita last week. She hadn’t known what was going on with her cousin, and she wasn’t going to risk her saying something incriminating. Was that unethical? Hell yeah. Did she care? Absolutely not.
If Rita had been standing over a dead body, that may’ve been a whole different ball game. But just a pile of scorched clothes wasn’t that big a deal, especially not after learning why she’d burned some of Nate’s clothes.
“We don’t have any more time for conversation, ladies. There’s a family hour starting at six and funeral following.” Dinah led them into a room with crimson leather chairs and a glossed conference table.
Minutes later they were joined by Medwin III, who shook their hands and spoke in that slow, calming tone of an undertaker. Thirty-five minutes later, Sharae had signed all necessary paperwork to have Medwin and his staff pick up Sanford’s body from the morgue and cremate him.
“A three-hundred-and-seventy-five-dollar urn?” Jemel was saying as they walked out the front door.
“It’s natural stone and will coordinate well with the furniture in her living room,” Rita replied.
Sharae had been walking a few steps in front of them, but at that comment, she stopped. “Wait? What? Who said I’m keeping that in my house?”
Rita raised a brow. “It’s your father’s ashes, Sharae.”
“It’s the ashes of a man who took away the most important person in my life. Hell no, he’s not living with me for the rest of my days.” Why hadn’t she thought about what to do with his ashes before now? Because she didn’t want to think about this mess at all.
While Rita appeared stunned, Jemel smirked. “I can’t believe she didn’t just donate his body to science,” Jemel said.
