Until Next Time (10 page)

“No doubt. Grandpa will love it. Nice work.”

KC rose and snatched the folder back. “Meet me Saturday at the airfield at two. We’ll do a test run, make sure everything’s copasetic. Then when we get together with the rest of the fam that night, we can tell them how amazing we are.”

“I’ll be there.”

KC stopped with his hand on the knob. “Didn’t you have a date last weekend with that funeral lady?”

Quinn rose, stretched his suddenly tight neck muscles. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, you haven’t mentioned it, and that isn’t like you.”

“This is different.”

KC lowered his head, his eyes narrowing. “Different?” A slow grin spread across his face. “She hasn’t called you back, has she?”

Quinn chucked a banana at his brother.

KC caught it. “Thanks, I was needing a snack.”

“Bug off.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

He rubbed his eyes, willing the throbbing to go away. “She’s different, KC. I mean, death knocks on her door twenty-four/seven. It’s pretty easy to see she doesn’t get that close to people.”

KC leaned against the doorframe, studying Quinn.

“And I think, even though we had a great time, that she’s…I dunno…afraid of death, or getting hurt or something. I haven’t quite put my finger on it yet.”

KC’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me, did you say the girl you’re dating—a
funeral director—
is afraid of death?”

“Christ. No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

“I barely know her.”

KC rubbed his chin. “Sometimes that doesn’t matter.”

Quinn dropped back into the chair. The act of standing suddenly became too difficult as he realized that in the short time he’d known Piper, he’d discovered there was something
very
special about her. And he had—
had—
to get to know her better.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “And the fact that she hasn’t returned any of my calls is getting a little frustrating.”

“How many calls we talking?”

“Two. One on Monday morning and one today.”

“Jesus, it’s Thursday, and she still hasn’t called you back?”

“No.”

“Maybe she’s been busy.”

Or maybe she didn’t have as good a time on their date as Quinn had thought. No, that can’t be it. He’d seen the way her cheeks had flushed when he’d touched her. He’d watched her sharp intake of breath as he’d stood next to her at the grocery store. She felt something. Only Quinn couldn’t figure out why in the hell she was trying to hide it so bad.

He rubbed his eyes again. Throbbing had turned into pounding. “Again, you’re probably right. Her outfit is small, but busy. And she handles all the after-hours business.”

“
All of it?
God, how does she find time to sleep? Grandpa told me they had seven funerals the week we buried Grandma. How does one woman handle that?”

Quinn kept his eyes closed. Piper really was a busy woman. And as far as he knew, she only had two other staff members. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you should find out. I’m sure that’s what’s keeping her away from you, Quinn.”

“Yeah.” He hoped. His eyes slid open, only to find his brother staring at him expectantly. “Go, I know you have better things to do than talk to me about girls.”

“That’s right. I can go home and snuggle up with mine.’” He held up the banana. “Can I have this?”

“Tell Sarah I said hey. The banana’s yours. Don’t choke on it.”

KC laughed as he slid outside. A
s
the door clicked shut behind him, Quinn picked up his phone to call Piper. Maybe she would enjoy watching the air show. He would definitely enjoy sharing that part of his life with her. Frowning, he closed his phone and remembered she’d be busy right this moment dealing with the Mr. Butcher thing. Then again, she hadn’t returned any of his calls yet, why would this one be any different?

Quinn realized he needed face time. And since her business was open during the day for walk-ins, well, he’d walk right in. He needed to discuss some business with her anyway. He could kill two birds with one stone.

Chapter Eight

Piper sat hunched over her desk, crunching numbers and paying invoices. Caskets, flowers, announcements, and every supply a person could think of for an embalming room. The business had really taken off in the last year. But with more business came more headaches. She rubbed a hand over her tense head. Grumbling, she glanced at the clock. It was noon and she’d been fiddling with funeral paperwork all morning.

Jessica bolted into her office. Piper’s head snapped up.

“Piper, oh my God, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go. Lenny’s school called…” A shaky hand raked through her pixie hair. “He fell on the playground, and they think…they think…he broke his arm, or leg, or God.” Her hand flew to her stomach. “Something. I think I blanked out when they said
broken.
”

Piper pushed away from her desk and gave Jessica the same comforting touch on the shoulder she gave all of her clients. “Calm down. Margo came in early to help transfer a body to a casket, so I can move myself to the front for a while. I’m sure Lenny will be okay. He’s a tough kid. Go.”

Jessica’s eyes bubbled with tears. “Okay. Okay.”

“Are you okay to drive?”

Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, I think. Uh, yeah, I’m good. I’ll make it there in record time.” She spun about, rushing through the door.

Piper called out behind her, “Be careful!”

Jessica nodded and vanished down the hall. Piper’s breath rushed out as she eyed the mound of crap on her desk. She picked up a labeled stack and shuffled to the front reception area. Once seated, she realized
very
quickly that she wasn’t going to get anything done. The phone kept ringing off the hook with general inquires and a few intakes. In less than ten minutes, she’d scheduled five business meetings for the next week alone. Her email icon kept flashing wildly every time one of her vendors sent her a question, a requisition, or random request.

Piper closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. When was the last time Jessica had left on a half-day? For the life of her, Piper couldn’t remember. And she would certainly remember having to field all of the stuff she was dealing with right now. Doing two jobs at once for only twenty minutes had her wanting to yank her hair out.

“Uh, excuse me, miss?”

The deep sound of a man’s voice made Piper sit at attention and plaster a friendly smile on her face. Rising, she automatically stretched out her hand. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

The man’s eyes widened slightly, showcasing his gray irises. He wore a gray suit, perfectly complementing his eyes. “I’m Gavin Morgan.”

His hand slid into hers. The grip was loose, soft.

“Morgan?” Piper’s brain went into remembrance phase. “Oh! Mr. Morgan, our new products rep?”

He nodded, his brown wavy hair bouncing slightly. “One and the same. Good to meet you…”

She dropped her hand and shuffled around the desk, straightening her clothes as she went. “Sorry, I’m Piper Downing, proprietor here.”

His grin was fast and cute. “Miss Downing.”

“No, please call me Piper.”

“Gavin, then.” Taking a step back, he tilted his head and peered around the foyer area. His gaze stopped at the viewing room on the left and the arrangement room on the right. He whistled. “Nice place. Big, old, classic.”

She smiled at his approving tone. “Comfortable.”

“Exactly. I find too many funeral homes nowadays have settled for the stark arrangement rooms and sterile viewing areas that can be twisted into a million different themes if needed. The floral patterns here, the dark wood, and the subdued lighting—this feels like a home. Even the casket wall in your arrangement room is done in such a way that it’s not jarring. You angled them, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Heat swam in her cheeks from the compliment. “The standard layout looked too formal and off-putting to me. If I had lost a loved one, I wouldn’t want to
see
huge chunks of twelve casket designs. So instead…” She stepped across the sprawling foyer into the arrangement room. He followed. “We had them put in the corners only, and all of them are gathered in sort of geometrical angle, so it looks more like art instead of caskets.” She cast a glance at Gavin, who was admiring the wall.

“I’ve never seen it done like this. And you’ve even color coordinated them, light to dark, so it looks like the wall is changing color. This setting is the first I’ve seen.”

“Thank you. We aim for intimacy during the difficult times. For the living, it’s personal, and the place they pick should have a personal touch. I like to think we do.”

“Visually, it’s excellent. How about in the bowels?” His eyes found hers as the corner of his lip lifted.

Piper couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, it’s organized—mostly. But it’s old, too, like the rest of this place.”

“Care to show me around??”

Piper strode out of the arrangement room, Gavin close on her heels. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Too make sure all our stuff is up-to-date?”

He chuckled. “I’m not the health department.”

“Certainly not. They were here earlier this week.” She groaned. “Passed with flying colors, though.” She jerked open the door that led down to the basement. Margo was on the other side. “Hey, Margo. This is our new rep, Gavin Morgan.”

Margo gave him a good once-over and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Margo,” Piper said, “I was going to take Gavin down to the prep room. Would you mind watching the phone? Jessica had to leave unexpectedly.”

“Sure thing.” Margo stepped out of the stairwell, allowing Piper and Gavin to pass onto the large top landing.

Flicking on the light switch, Piper waved Gavin forward. “After you.”

He took the steps two at a time, not even losing his balance on the slippery bottom two steps. Piper was slower; she was, after all, in heels. When she reached the bottom, he’d already found the overhead lights and was milling about the vast space of the main room. Three empty steel-topped gurneys lined up against the left wall, surrounding by various pumps and cords. Catty-cornered to that were three additional gurneys under bright lights used during reconstruction. Along the opposite wall was the work station—and the place all the random stuff got put. The supply cabinet stood tall and wide in the corner. The arched doorway on the far side led to the coolers, storages rooms, and other supply areas. This space was where everything happened.

Gavin’s dark eyes gleamed as he looked at everything. He meandered over to the embalming area and twirled a long steel rod used for embalming through his fingers. “Retro.”

She stomped over, snatching the item from his hand. “You shouldn’t play with the equipment.”

He eased back, bumping into a table. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She jammed the rod back into place. “This stuff was my father’s. I haven’t had the heart to replace it. Plus it’s not broken.”

“It’s sentimental, then?”

Her smile was hesitant. “Yes.”

“I see.” He strode over to the cabinet. “This is where you keep your immediate reconstruction supplies?”

“Yes.” Drawing the key from her pocket, she unlocked the door, having to jiggle it a few seconds longer than normal. She huffed out a breath when it wouldn’t open.

“This sentimental, too?” His face was close to hers. Too close. She gave the door a solid yank, and it swung open smacking wall, allowing several items to tumble onto the floor.

“Oh, cheese and crackers.” Groaning, Piper dove down to the floor. Hands with long fingers shot out to help her. She pushed them away. “I got it. I got it.”

Within seconds she had her hands full. She shoved the items on the bottom shelf. When she stood her full height, Mr. Too-Close had backed way up, his eyes narrowing.

“Sweet mother of chocolate.” She ran a hand through her wild hair.

After several awkward silent moments, Gavin spoke, “I’m sorry, Miss Downing. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. No, it’s not you.” Huffing out a breath, she snatched her inventory sheet from the clipboard hanging by the cabinet. She shoved it at him. “Can you please get on with this?”

His eyes softened. “Sure.” He glanced at the clipboard. “Are you going to help?”

She gaped at him. “Help? How?”

“You know…” His voice was insanely smooth. “I find it best to have a business relationship where both sides know everything about how the other side works. Helps with communication, wouldn’t you say?”

“Uh, sure.”

“So, then,” he continued, unfazed by Piper’s lack of knowledge, “it’s best that we inventory and stock together.”

“Fine, if that’s what suits you.”

His grin was quick. “It suits me. And it’ll suit you and your business, too. I promise.”

With liquid movements, Gavin crossed back over to Piper and swung his black bag onto the counter. “Got the latest in embalming and cosmetics in here. When’s the last time you looked through one of our catalogs?”

“Uh, Tony never gave us a catalog. He just restocked. Never asked questions. I think I’ve talked to you more in the last ten minutes than I’ve ever talked to him.”

A slow smile lit Gavin’s face. “Interesting.”

Frowning, Piper took back the clipboard he held out. “So then, how do you want to do this?”

“Let me take a look at what you’ve got in the cabinet, and we’ll go from there. How’s that?”

“Sounds good.”

Gavin slid off his suit jacket, tossed it over his bag, and rolled up his sleeves. He was lean, his movements swift and efficient.

“Is this thing organized in any particular way?” he asked, pointing to the stacked containers and jumbled tins.

“Mostly.” She grinned, thinking about when she and Margo had cleaned it recently. “Cosmetics are at the top. The more hard-core items can be found near the bottom. You can start anywhere.” She bit her lip, eyeing the inventory list. “I don’t think it’s reconciled anyway with this inventory, so whatever you do, take it slow.”

His brow arched. “Got it.” He twisted, diving hands-first into the array of items. “EA5, nose putty, six shades. QT12, bone simulation wax, XJ10, flexible sealer, two-toned paintable.”

Piper nodded and checked things off as he went. The vast array of cosmetics took the longest. Any and every possible makeup someone could imagine was in her cabinet. They went through all the waxes, sealers, tints, gels, plastics, powders and creams. Once completed with the never-ending list, Piper’s eyes were blurry.

“That’s everything,” Gavin said. “Oh, wait—” He stood on his toes, snatching something down from the top of the cabinet.

Piper’s eyes went wide. “That’s nothing.”

Gavin faced her, holding a rusted tin box about half the size of a shoebox. She went to grab it. He jerked it away. Heat rushed into her cheeks.

“Please,” she said, “may I have that?”

Gavin’s gray eyes never left hers as he popped open the tin and held the container up. He glanced to the contents and back up. “These are old. I mean,
really
old, Miss Downing.”

Annoyed, she snatched the box from him and tossed it on the counter by the wall. “I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen non-polymer sealer since I started this job. The new stuff works a lot better at sealing eyes and stuff. You know it’s against health regulations to keep that sort of stuff with the other items you use, right?”

“I, uh, no…I didn’t. I’ll remove them immediately.” Good thing the health inspector, who’d come the day before, hadn’t been as thorough as Gavin. He hadn’t been as good-looking, either. She shook off that last thought.

“I was just kidding, Piper. Now if you’d had a spill of formaldehyde or something, that’d be a different story. I’m sorry I upset you.” His eyes had gone soft again, his voice back to smooth. “I can tell that box is important, otherwise it wouldn’t be down here with the rest of this stuff. I imagine it’s the same reason you’re touchy about your equipment.”

She bit her lip, but said nothing.

“Ah, well, it’s none of my business.” He took the clipboard from her hands, allowing his fingers to brush against hers.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Truly, I’m sensitive about some things.”

He gave her a half-smile smile. “I understand. People like you and I have baggage that others can’t even imagine—and it’s not the living kind.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t grow up and want to become a mortician,” he added. “You don’t play with cosmetics and liquid plastics when you’re five and say you want to be a reconstruction salesman. That’d be crazy.” He stepped closer. “We are born into what we do, Miss Downing. And being born into this means we’ve dealt with death and the pain of it differently than everyone else.”

He was so right in so many different ways, and Piper was betting that this strange man knew her better than anyone else—and he didn’t even
know
her. Sure, she knew a lot of other funeral directors. She’d met many over the years and had developed a sort of kinship with them. They all had something in common. However, Gavin looked at her differently than others. He looked like he
knew
why she was a mortician, the struggles that came with it, and the loss from growing up in this kind of world. She’d only talked shop with others in her field, but she felt as though Gavin was speaking more on a personal level, and that thought intrigued her. Was it possible that she’d found someone who knew exactly how she felt? The kind of person who knew exactly what she needed? That was an unexpected—yet stimulating—thought.