Until Next Time

by Dell, Justine

  “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.

  “Yes, it’s an interesting business, you know—dead baggage and all.” She waved him off and strode across the room. “Shall we do the embalming items now?”

  Another bright smile lit his young face. “My pleasure.”

  <<<<>>>>>

  Quinn had left Piper messages that went unanswered. That was the only reason why he was standing on the doorstep of the funeral home. The only reason.

  He knocked, as usual, and waited several beats before the door swished open. Margo, the undertaker helper, stood on the other side. She looked much better without her Halloween paint. He gave her a warm smile.

  “Hello, I was stopping by to see if Piper was available?”

  “You know…” She grabbed his elbow and jerked him over the threshold. “I don’t know how many times we have to tell you not to knock. This is a place of business, just come in.”

  “I’ll make a note of it.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ve left Piper a few messages. Is she in?”

  “Of course, she’s downstairs with Mr. Morgan.”

  Quinn tried to place the name but found he couldn’t. “I see. Would you mind if I wait for her?”

  Margo’s face lifted into a sly grin. “Certainly.” She ushered him into the arrangement room and pointed to an overstuffed paisley covered chair. “Sit here. Piper should be up shortly. She’s been down there forever.”

  Frowning, Quinn took a seat and waited. And waited. He studied the room and found it relaxing with the autumn colors on the wallpaper, and even somewhat artistic with the decorative display of quarter caskets, mock-up flower arrangements, and soft music playing. The room wasn’t sad; it was inviting, comfortable. He imagined people who’d lost someone would be at ease in the warm space. Glancing at his watch, he realized he’d been waiting a half hour. Knowing he had to meet his father at two, he rose, slightly upset that he would miss Piper again. Crossing the room, he froze at the doorway when he heard Piper’s voice. Then he heard her giggle. A man’s voice chimed in, mumbling something ridiculous about lanolin-based massage oil, and the hair on the back of Quinn’s neck damn near flew off.

  Quinn didn’t rush out, though. He ducked behind the half-closed door and watched. Piper appeared around the corner, her hair bouncing with her excited steps. A skinny man bopped in behind her, his skin tan, his eyes focusing on the wrong part of Piper’s backside.

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Quinn tried his best to gauge the situation.

  “Seriously, Miss Downing,” the man said, “the lanolin will be better for the skin. Much better than that nineteen-fifties cream you’re using.”

  Piper shook her head, continuing to smile. “I’ll consider it.”

  Mr. Massage Oil pulled something out of his ridiculously oversized briefcase, and Piper dashed off down the hallway. When she returned, her pale cheeks were flush, her eyes bright. She handed a huge manila folder to the man. Quinn didn’t miss the way their fingers touched. Did she blush?

  “So, tomorrow then?” Piper said, a little out of breath.

  The man zipped up his bag and tossed the strap over his shoulder. “Yes. Noon still okay?”

  “Yes, I checked my calendar. Assuming anything doesn’t come up here, I’ll see you then.”

  The man took her hand, shook it gently, and gave a slow smile. Quinn cringed.

  “Excellent,” the man replied, finally releasing her fingers. “I’ll see my way out.”

  Piper gave him a confident grin before focusing on Margo, who was sitting behind the desk. The front door clicked shut, and Piper’s mouth started to open to say something.

  Margo spoke first. “Mr. Oliver is here to see you.”

  Piper’s cheeks went twelve shades of red. One hand flew to her hair and the other flew to the front of her blouse. “Oh. Where?”

  “The arrangement room.”

  Quinn backed away from the door several steps and started to walk towards it again, hopefully giving the illusion that he was walking to it when Piper breezed in. From the look of surprise on her face, it worked.

  “Oh, hi, Piper.” Quinn stopped. “I’m sorry. I was getting ready to leave. I didn’t realize you were so busy today. I’ve got some appointments of my own I need to make.”

  “You have to go?” Her smile fell.

  “Yes.” He side-stepped her. “Return my call when you get a chance.” He took another step, stopped, and turned. “On second thought…” He plucked a card out of his wallet. “Call my grandpa. The business I was going to discuss involved him and his foundation. Maybe it would be better if you spoke with him.”

  When she didn’t reach to take the card, Quinn set it on the table near the door.

  “Is that all you wanted?” she asked, her voice low.

  He blinked and nodded.

  “Okay then.” Her hands twisted in front of her. “Then, will I see you later?”

  His shoulders lifted and fell. “Maybe. That depends on you, of course. Please call my grandpa when you get a chance. Goodbye, Piper.” He shuffled to the door, not bothering to look back or even try to deduce the strained expression on Piper’s face. He was feeling a bit strained himself.

  <<<<>>>>>

  Piper spun about, head suddenly pounding. “How long has Quinn been here, Margo?”

  “Oh, about thirty minutes, I’d say. He mentioned he’d phoned a few times, and since he hadn’t heard back, thought he’d drop by.” She made her way to the staircase. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get back to my underground station.”

  Piper was dizzy. He’d waited that long to see her only to shove a card in her face and say goodbye?

  “That’s fine,” Piper mumbled.

  Sure, Piper hadn’t called Quinn back yet, but it wasn’t because she hadn’t wanted to. She’d been busy. Dead people didn’t wait. And the living didn’t either. She’d had a surprisingly wonderful time on their date, had enjoyed seeing him briefly at the market, and was looking forward to it again. Her subconscious was screaming at her to keep a wide berth from him, but Piper had told Quinn about what she could offer. He’d accepted it. Therefore she shouldn’t be afraid of their impending dating and possible relationship. And she wasn’t.

  She sank down in to the reception chair and glared at her bleeping email icon. She should call him, explain a few things. Grabbing a pen from the desk, she tapped it against her lips. Then again, she’d had the time several nights this week to call him and she hadn’t. Blowing a breath, she jerked up the phone receiver and punched in the number on the card Quinn had given her.

  She would call Quinn. Right after this phone call.

  Chapter Nine

  When Piper pulled up to Mr. Oliver’s house, she finally took in the sheer size of it. The first time she’d been here, she’d been so nervous about fraternizing with clients that she hadn’t had a mome
nt to let it set in. But this house…was huge. Victorian style with ornately carved porch rails and beams covering the entire outside perimeter. It was a sun bursting yellow with white trim and windows, two stories with turrets on every corner. Her funeral home home was big, but this dwarfed it.

  After parking in the blacktop drive, she gathered up the items Mr. Oliver had asked her to bring. She understood the new funeral funding help initiative, but she didn’t understand how she could help them really launch the thing. Then again, she had connections they didn’t, and there was a big National Funeral Directors and Morticians Association Convention coming up. Not one to shy away from a challenge, she’d come, as requested, to hear the man out. She hoped Quinn wasn’t here. Since the day before, she’d called him, left him two messages, and hadn’t heard back. If the man wasn’t confusing…

  She lurched back in her seat at the rap on her window. Cradling her paperwork, she glanced out. And blinked. The eyes staring at her under shaggy blond hair looked like Quinn’s. Only these were the same color, not like Quinn’s light eye and lighter eye. After shaking her head, she looked at the whole picture. Long, straight nose. Perfect skin, even around the right eye. This man was smiling, waving at her to get out of the car. No dimple. Not Quinn, but someone who looked a great deal like him.

  The car door swung open, and she slid out.

  “Hey,” the man said, reaching out to help her. “Grandpa said you might need some help when you got here.”

  She awkwardly let go of the files and folders. The man scooped them up. “You must be Del, or KC, right?”

  Another quick flash of a thousand-watt smile. “KC.”

  “Nice to finally officially meet you. I’m Piper.”

  He nodded, swooping his long arm toward the sidewalk. “After you.”

  She scurried inside, KC at her heels. Within minutes she was seated at a dining room table twice the length of the one she’d had while growing up. The last time she’d been in the house, it had been crammed with people, so this time she allowed herself to gaze around.

  Rich, bold colors adorned the walls, immaculate dark woodwork surrounded her, family photos hung in every room, and obvious antiques were perfectly placed about. And the lights! Crystal chandeliers hung from every ten-foot ceiling.