Until Next Time (2 page)

Truth be told, everyone had to deal with death at some point in their lives. Piper had grown up with it, seen her father make a successful business out of it. She knew what people needed in their time of need. And she knew how to give it to them without getting emotionally invested in the situation itself. That was how it had to be done. It was what had served her for her entire thirty years while watching her father run Downing & Sons. She rubbed her tense shoulders. So why had she made an exception for this family?

Piper didn’t—and hadn’t ever—dealt with death properly. But it wasn’t the
death
part that scared her. It was the love part that tore apart her insides.

Chapter Two

Macy Quinn Oliver shuffled his way through the thick of his family members lingering about his grandpa’s house. He smiled as he heard them laugh and poke fun at each other. Weaving through his younger cousins bobbing around like crazy, Quinn made his way to the kitchen.

“Need any help, Ma?” he asked.

His mother, barely showing her sixty-four years with her still-blond hair, bright eyes, and barely a wrinkle on her face, looked up from a platter of delicious-looking tarts. She greeted him with a soft smile. “No, it helps to keep my hands busy.”

Quinn bounded over to her as she tried to lift the tray that must have weighed fifty pounds.

“Let me get that.” He gave a mocking grunt as he lifted the tray. “Ma, did you use ten bushels of apples for this?”

“Twelve, actually.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“You should be sitting with the family and not in the kitchen. We’ve got enough food to feed an army—no sense in you making any more.”

Her eyes slid into that perfect knowing mother-stare. “And what does it look like throughout the house?”

He chuckled. “An army.”

“See? The more food, the better.” She turned around and busied her hands once more with a huge bowl of tricolored pasta.

His hand touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but a smile lit her face. “Of course, Macy. Death is a part of life. Your father’s mother is in a better place without pain. She’s happy and strong in her eternal body. We were blessed with the time we had with her, and we know it’s not goodbye…”

“It’s
until next time
,” Quinn finished for her.

Her smile brightened as she patted his cheek. “Exactly.” She gave him a shooing motion. “Now go deliver that food before a riot breaks out in the living room.”

With a nod, he complied. After placing the silver tray of tarts on the oversized dining room table, he went in search of his grandpa. He met his father in the hallway instead.

“Sir,” he acknowledged.

“Have you seen to your mother?”

“Yes. Helped her as much as she’d let me.”

A half-grin lifted his father’s aged face. Unlike his mother, Quinn’s father looked every bit of his sixty-four years. Wrinkles folded around his green eyes, which had faded to a muted color over the years. His once army-straight posture gave away to a slightly hunched back. But he was still strong.

“Grandpa?” Dad asked.

“I was going to check on him now.”

“Good. Find your brothers, and make sure everything is in place. All the glasses and plates should be full. All the children pacified with games. You got the games, right?”

Quinn nodded.

“Good. Good. I’m going to set up the projector in a few minutes.” He glanced at his watch, squinting because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “We’ll start at nineteen hundred.”

“We’ll be ready. No worries, sir.”

With a quick nod, Quinn’s father spun about and limped off toward the library.

Quinn bustled through the crowd, careful not to step on toes or bump into anyone. He was stopped for cheerful talk more times than he could count. He finally found his brothers lounging in the sunroom off the back of the house.

He frowned at both of them as he walked into the sunlit space. Del was half-asleep on the chaise, and KC was tapping away at his phone.

“Dad’s looking for you two.”

Their heads snapped up. Within seconds, they were on their feet.

“What’s he need?” KC slid his phone into his jacket pocket and made a beeline for the door.

“Drinks and food. Make sure everyone’s got them. We’re starting at seven. Where’s Sarah?”

“I was texting her. She’s running around with the kids. One day chasing other people’s kids isn’t going to be enough for her.”

Quinn only smiled at the light tone in which his brother spoke. KC and Sarah had been married for over a year now. Quinn and Sarah shared a similar, difficult past, and he was happy KC had found her. They made a great couple, an even better team. And Quinn knew that both of them would make the best parents, showering their children with love, adoration and determination, same as their parents had done for them.

“I’ll take care of the drinks and food,” KC said. “Sarah can be herded in with the rest of the crowd.”

Del shuffled to the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Me?”

“The kids. Track Sarah down, and she’ll show you what to do. The games are in my trunk.” He tossed Del his keys. “Set them up in the playroom downstairs.”

“I don’t have to watch them, do I?” Del muttered.

Quinn laughed. “No. Cousin Marci’s agreed to that task.”

“Thank God.”

“Hurry up.” Quinn darted back out the door. “Clock’s ticking…and Dad doesn’t like any kinks in his plan.”

Quinn stifled a laugh at the grumbling of his brothers as he maneuvered back through the house to find his grandpa. Their father had a strong-willed controlling love that they’d never fully embraced. They’d pushed against it every chance they’d gotten. And yet, they still obeyed when Marcus Oliver, military man and Air Force pilot extraordinaire, barked a command. As did Quinn.

Quinn weaved to the kitchen once more, making sure his mother truly needed no more help. When she practically shoved him out the door, he went through the living room, the dining room, the back and front hall, searched the upstairs and down, and still couldn’t find his grandpa. He stopped in the foyer and scratched his head.

Del strode in through the front door with a load of children’s games. The Barrel of Monkeys box fell from the top of the stack and crashed to the floor as Del shut the door behind him.

Quinn picked up the game and put it under Del’s chin. “You seen Grandpa?”

Del nodded and jerked his head toward the door. “He’s on the front porch with that lady from the funeral home.”

Quinn’s pulse sped up a notch. He looked at his watch. “Library, fifteen minutes. I’ll bring Grandpa.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quinn playfully jabbed Del in the arm. “Just go.”

“Yes, sir.” With a snort, Del strolled down the hall to the stairs.

Quinn glanced back at the front door. Before opening it, he tightened the knot on his tie and smoothed a hand over his dress shirt. Then he stepped out onto the wooden porch.

The breath he’d drawn in rushed out when he saw Ms. Downing perched on the rickety swing with his grandpa, just as it had when he’d seen her earlier that day.

Her cinnamon hair, still tight in a cute little bun, looked even better under the setting evening sun. Little tendrils had escaped, and she brushed them behind her ear. The creak of the floorboard beneath his feet drew her and Grandpa’s attention up. He straightened.

“Macy!” Grandpa smacked a hand on his fragile knee and struggled to get to his feet. Ms. Downing held out her slender hand for balance, and Grandpa took it with an eager smile. “Come and meet Ms. Downing.”

Quinn gulped and took a step forward.

“Please, Mr. Oliver,” Ms. Downing said as she rose to her feet. “It’s Piper.”

Grandpa gave a hooting laugh. “Then it’s George to you, my dear.” He waved Quinn forward, holding out his hand. “Macy, let me introduce you to Piper.”

Quinn did as requested, putting himself right in front of the woman’s small frame. Her eyes fluttered briefly before focusing on his face. Grandpa took her hand and settled it into Quinn’s.

“Piper Downing,” Grandpa said. “This is my grandson Macy.”

Quinn rolled his eyes playfully and gripped Piper’s hand gently. “Macy Quinn Oliver,” he replied. “Please, call me Quinn.”

Her delicate brow rose, allowing a flicker of light to cast a glow off her eyes. Eyes that perfectly matched the color of her hair.

“Yes.” She gave a quick sigh. “We met earlier, though not formally. It’s good to meet you, Quinn.”

Her warm hand felt wonderful beneath his. Quinn had the sudden urge to bring it to his lips. To kiss the ivory skin and watch her cheeks grow to a rose flush. Not that he knew she would blush. But suddenly he wanted to see color light her cheeks.

He cleared his throat. “It’s good to meet you. Has Grandpa been boring you to death?”

“Oh, no.” Her lush pink lips curled up to show a gleaming white smile. “He’s been trying to convince me to come to your family game night.” Her gaze skidded back to Grandpa.

“Has he now?” Quinn let her hand slide from his. “And what did you say?”

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, not allowing her eyes to meet his. “Maybe.”

His brow rose. “Maybe?”

Her dainty head nodded as the rose color he’d wanted to see swam into her cheeks. “Possibly.”

“Ah, good. It’s fiercely competitive, though. You’ve been warned.”

“Nothing’s wrong with a little friendly competition,” Grandpa added. His eyes narrowed in on Quinn. “Well, I’m betting you searched me out for a reason, eh?”

Quinn’s lip curved. “Dad wants to start at seven. We better get inside.”

His old eyes sparkled. “Guess we shouldn’t keep the drill sergeant waiting, then.” He hobbled past Quinn and Piper.

Quinn’s vision slid back to the exquisite beauty of Piper. From the small, perfectly shaped nose to the easy curve of her lips. They were kissable lips, he was certain. “You ready to go inside?”

“Um…yes.” She clasped her hands together. “Is, uh, your father really a drill sergeant?”

Quinn laughed and took her elbow. “No, still likes to have his way, though, most of the time. We grew up with a great deal of respect for our father, that’s all.”

Piper looked up when they hit the threshold to the door.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked. “Remember I said no one’ll bite you.”

She fiddled with the wisps of hair around her ear. “I know. It’s…well…I’ve never…done this kind of thing before.”

He frowned. “You’ve never been to someone’s house?”

An adorable chuckle rolled from her lips. “No. Well, yes.” Her hand fluttered to her chest.

She still hadn’t looked him in the eyes again. Her gaze was drawn to her feet. Or maybe it was the chipped paint on the floorboards. Or the speck of dust on her perfectly polished black shoe. Quinn didn’t know. But she wasn’t looking at him.

“Piper? Uh, may I call you Piper?”

“Of course, Mr. Oliver.”

“Quinn.”

“Yes. Quinn.” Her lips twitched as she said his name. Like she was trying it out.

He tilted his head and studied her. “Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

“Fine. Really. I don’t normally get together with clients, is all. Personally, I mean.”

“Too painful?”

Her flawlessly arched brow rose as she finally looked at him once again. There was something there, a spark of knowing that Quinn recognized. The woman had seen pain in her profession. He could understand. Staying a safe distance from death when she could would make sense, he guessed. And going to an after-the-viewing wake for a client probably wasn’t on her list of to-dos.

“Something like that,” she whispered. She ushered herself past him, straightening her lean shoulders as she met the rest of his family head-on.

<<<<>>>>>

Piper had known that something was amiss within herself when she’d agreed to go to Mr. Oliver’s house that evening. Part of it was the fact she’d never consorted with clients before. Ever. Watching people mourn was something she did not want to witness. And getting close to people was furthest from her mind as well. But part of it was him.

Macy Quinn Oliver.

She could barely control the quickening of her breath as he walked beside her into the foyer. Which was so ridiculously childlike. His hand still rested on her elbow comfortably, like he escorted women all the time. He probably did.

He led her through the hoard of family members with a cool sureness. His posture was confident, not cocky. His steps comfortable, not conceited. And she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the clear-cut lines of his profile. She was struck by the combination of his amazingly light green eyes and even lighter blond hair. The dimple on his right cheek as he greeted family and introduced her. And the glimmer in his right eye—the lighter eye. And she couldn’t help but wonder about the area surrounding that eye that was several shades lighter than the rest of the flawless, touchable skin.

So far Piper had meet six cousins, four sets of aunts and uncles, and enough children to fill a school bus. It was a good thing she was good with names.

“We’ll be starting in a few minutes.” His voice had an infinitely compassionate tone. Smooth but not seductive. Simple but natural. Perfect. “Are you hungry?”

She tried her best not to fidget. “No, thank you. Um, what exactly will we be doing in five minutes?”

His lips parted in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth. The dimple deepened. “Cherishing the past. Looking to the future.”

“Ah, I see.” Actually, she didn’t. But she was suddenly caught in those impossible eyes. It made her uncomfortable. Sexual attraction to a man was one thing, but having tingling feelings about one who had just lost his grandmother was another. The grandson of a client, no less. It was sticky territory that made her want to hike up her skirt and run for the door.