“Mama, if you keep making me walk too fast, I’m gonna drop the coronations,” Ellie said, scurrying to Janet’s side. Dressed in a lemon-yellow sundress, red, glittery sandals, and a bright purple fanny pack, Ellie looked like a tie-dyed pixie with bangs. She had an arm linked through the handle of a boat-shaped floral basket that leaned precariously to one side.
“Carnations, sweetie,” Janet said, coming to a halt. She balanced the spray across her left arm and with her free hand, helped Ellie right the basket.
Ellie shrugged. “That’s what I said . . . coronations.”
Janet smiled and tipped her daughter’s freckled nose with a finger. So far she’d been able to hide her growing apprehension from Ellie. It hadn’t been easy, though, especially this morning when Janet had changed their normal routine. When Ellie wasn’t in school, she usually stayed with their babysitter, Laura Trahan, while Janet and her husband, Michael, were at work. This morning, however, Janet woke with a gnawing, nameless worry in her chest that grew so heavy by the end of breakfast, she decided to scratch the sitter and keep Ellie close at hand. She’d nearly asked Michael to stay home from work as well, then decided against it. He was a grown man, more than capable of taking care of himself, and she didn’t want to sound like a neurotic paranoiac. Fortunately, other than it being a busy day, nothing out of the ordinary had happened to give substance to her worries. But Janet had a feeling that something in the funeral home would soon change all that.
Determined to gain some control over her swelling jitters, Janet tweaked Ellie’s chin. “Hey, did I tell you what a terrific helper you’ve been today?”
“Really?” Ellie beamed.
“Yep.”
“Better than Miss Bertha Lynn even?”
Bertha Lynn was a pudgy, fifty-five-year-old widow with frizzy salt-and-pepper hair and a natural flare for floriculture. She’d been Janet’s assistant for six years.
“Hmm,” Janet said, pretending to ponder the question. “Hard to say. I think it’s probably a tie between the two of you.” She grinned as Ellie did a little hop of joy.
When they reached the service entrance of the funeral home, Janet pulled it open, grateful that someone had remembered to unlock it. She motioned Ellie inside, then brought up the rear, her body immediately registering the twenty-degree drop in temperature. Janet juggled the rose spray to her other arm, then shut the door behind her.
“Quiet, remember?” Janet whispered to Ellie. Judging from the empty parking lot, she didn’t think any visitors had arrived yet for calling hours, but she’d been fooled before.
Ellie nodded, then began to hum softly to the violin concerto that drifted down from overhead speakers. She tiptoed beside Janet, the plush maroon and beige carpet swallowing the sound of her footsteps.
As they headed down the hall toward the intersecting corridor that led to the viewing rooms, a shiver caught Janet unawares. Her steps faltered, and she glanced over her shoulder. She saw nothing behind them but a hallway bathed in soft fluorescent lights, a drinking fountain, and the door from which they’d entered. Janet turned back, feeling her heart beat faster and her mouth grow dry. She took Ellie’s hand in hers and surveyed the space ahead.
A mahogany occasional table draped with a runner of damask cloth stood at the end of the hall. Beside it, a black leather, roll-back chair. The same chair and table she’d seen many times before. Nothing seemed out of place, yet her anxiety continued to escalate, nearly cutting her breath with its weight.
Janet struggled to keep her walk casual, leading Ellie farther down the hall and past a white metal door marked PREP ROOM. From the minuscule seams along the door’s casing, Janet caught the faint scent of formaldehyde. The smell beckoned images of naked bodies, their veins washed of blood by watery, pink fluid while they lay atop stainless steel tables. The vision weakened her knees.
Biting her bottom lip, Janet willed herself forward. They rounded the intersecting hall, and the floral spray resting across her right arm seemed to grow bulkier with each step. The cool air she’d found so inviting when they’d first entered the funeral home now felt stifling and thick. Janet wanted to drop the spray, grab Ellie, and bolt from the building. But she pressed on, rationalizing against the waves of paranoia. This was her husband’s funeral parlor—well, her father-in-law’s if she had to get technical—and she knew this place as well as she did their own home. What could possibly hurt them here? The dead?Another involuntary shiver hastened Janet’s pace.
With Ellie still humming beside her, Janet hurried past walnut side tables, a glass curio cabinet filled with miniature ceramic birds, a settee newly lined in beige velvet, and straight-back chairs upholstered in gold and maroon striped fabric. Janet gave little notice to the furnishings, however. She kept her eyes trained on her delivery point, which was marked by a small, black marquee standing fifty feet or so ahead to her left. The white block letters stenciled across the marquee read: THOMAS RASMUSSEN.
Ellie pulled her hand from Janet’s and pointed to the sign. “Over there, right, Mama?”
Before Janet could answer, Ellie broke into a run toward the viewing room. Though her daughter had been in the funeral home numerous times and knew the routine of Janet’s flower deliveries by heart, the sight of her child free from the safety of her grasp sent Janet’s heart slamming against her ribs. She watched Ellie run around the corner of the viewing room—and straight into a pair of arms that seemed to appear out of nowhere. They scooped Ellie out of sight.
Janet only had time to gasp before Ellie reappeared, giggling in the arms of Chad Thibodeaux, her husband’s apprentice.
“Mrs. Savoy, look here,” Chad said, grinning. “Seems like I caught me a . . .” His grin faded as his eyes met Janet’s. “Something wrong?”
Janet managed a weak smile. “N-no. You just startled me a little, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” Chad said, and quickly lowered Ellie to the floor. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right, really.” Janet had known Chad a little over eight months; long enough to know the tall, slender young man was as harmless as a roosting pigeon. She silently admonished herself for allowing her imagination to run rampant and lifted the floral spray, eager to change the subject. “Last delivery of the day.”
“Me, too,” Ellie said. She showed Chad the basket of carnations. “Mama let me help, and she said I was a very good helper.”
Evidently relieved that he hadn’t scared the boss’s wife into cardiac arrest, Chad said, “Wow!” a little too loudly. Blushing, he squatted beside Ellie, giving her his full attention. “So you really got to help out at the flower shop all day?”
“Yep—no—well, almost all day,” Ellie said. “Miss Bertha Lynn’s still over there ‘cause she wasn’t finished with a flower thingy. Me and Mama had to bring these now ‘cause I’ve gotta go get ready for my dancing receipt.”
“Dancing receipt?” Chad peered up at Janet quizzically.
“Recital,” Janet said.
“Yeah, that,” Ellie said. “I get to be a butterfly dancer.” As though to prove her point, she twirled and flapped her free arm at her side. “See?”
“I sure do,” Chad said, chuckling.
Ellie gave him a satisfied grin, then bounded into the viewing room, carnations in tow.
Chad stood and brushed a hand over the jacket of his black, tailored suit. “Can I help you with that?” he asked, offering to take the spray from Janet.
She gladly handed it over to him. “Where’s Michael?”
“Out running an errand. I’m the only one here right now,” Chad said, standing a bit taller. “Sally’s supposed to be here in another thirty minutes or so, but honestly I don’t know why she’s coming in at all. We’re not expecting a big crowd, just immediate family, and they only want a two-hour viewing. Mr. Rasmussen goes to the crematory as soon as we’re done.” He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “I think Sally wants to be here because she doesn’t trust me to handle any of the families
on my own.”
Janet gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “I wouldn’t worry about Sally,” she offered. “Sometimes it takes her a little while to warm up to people, that’s all.” Janet knew Sally Mouton could be very territorial when the spirit moved her, but in many ways the highly organized, sixty-eight-year-old spinster had earned the right. She’d been serving as Savoy Funeral Home’s secretary and hostess for more than twenty-five years.
“I hope you’re right,” Chad said. “Sometimes I think she—”
The chirp of a telephone in the distance silenced Chad and sent his eyebrows into a high arch. “I’d better get that before the answering service picks up,” he said nervously, and handed the spray back to Janet. “I hate to run out on you but—”
“No problem. Go.”
He gave her a scant nod, then hurried away.
Janet went into the viewing room, anxious to get Ellie back in her sights and to rid herself of the prickly arrangement once and for all.
She found her daughter sitting quietly on the floor at the front of the room near the foot of a polished oak bier. Atop the bier sat a pine casket, the top half of which lay open, revealing an elderly man in a dark blue suit. Ellie’s ease around corpses never ceased to amaze Janet, but the child’s abrupt stillness did.
“You okay, honey?” Janet asked. She placed the spray over the casket’s closed bottom lid and straightened some of the roses that had wiggled free of symmetry.
“Uh-huh,” Ellie said.
Janet glanced down and saw Ellie staring into the basket of carnations in her lap. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Ellie scratched the end of her nose. “Mama?”
“Yes?”
“Do you like horses?”
Slightly taken aback by the question, Janet paused before answering, “I guess so.”
“Even mean ones?”
“Now what would make you ask something like that?”
Ellie shrugged.
Janet waited a bit longer, and when Ellie didn’t question her further, she went back to adjusting the spray.
Sighing loudly, Ellie placed the basket on the floor, stood and walked to the head of the casket. She peered inside. “Mama?”
“Hm?”
“Is there a kid heaven then a grown up heaven? Or is there just one where everybody goes together?”
A shiver slipped down the back of Janet’s neck. Her encounter with Chad had offered a small respite from the notion of impending trouble, but Ellie’s newest question caused it to snap back into place with a vengeance.
“I’m not positive,” Janet said. She swallowed, and her throat felt coated with briars. “From what I’ve heard, though, I think everybody goes to one place.”
“Even teenagers? Do they go to the same place as everybody else, too?”
“I’m sure they do.”
“And do people have to pay to get into heaven?” Ellie asked, her questions becoming more urgent. “You know, like when we go to the movies and have to buy a ticket to get in?”
Janet frowned. She was used to Ellie asking unusual questions from time to time, but these were downright weird.
“Do they?” Ellie pressed.
“I don’t think so.” Janet quickly plucked a brown-tipped piece of foliage from the spray, then held out a hand to Ellie. It was definitely time to get out of this place. “All done here, Miss Wonderful. Time to go home. We still have a lot to do before the recital.”
Ellie patted the corner of the casket as though signaling goodbye to Mr. Rasmussen, then went over to Janet and took her hand.
“Mama?”
“What, baby?” Janet asked, leading Ellie across the room.
“When somebody dies and goes to heaven, can they come back and visit?”
Gooseflesh made another run along Janet’s arms. “I don’t know. Why?”
“’Cause I need to know.”
“Need to?”
Ellie pulled Janet to a stop and faced her. “Yeah,” she said, her face solemn, her blue eyes sad. “’Cause how else am I gonna know if I can come back to you and Daddy after I die?”
The words sent a crushing blow to Janet’s chest. She scooped Ellie into her arms and hugged her tight. “Sweetie, you don’t have to worry about stuff like that for a long, long, long time.”
Ellie gave her a tentative smile. “Long, long, long?”
“Even longer,” Janet said. Then, with her daughter still clutched to her breast, she hurried out of the building, praying that the obscure dread that had followed her around all day hadn’t been sent to prove her wrong.
CHAPTER TWO
Janet dug through the refrigerator for grated cheese, mentally sorting through the tasks she had yet to finish and attempting to ignore the persistent nagging in her gut. Although the sense of foreboding had abated after she’d left the funeral home, it refused to go away
“Hey, any doodlebugs live here?”
The sound of Michael’s voice calling from the living room caused Janet to sigh heavily with relief. At least he was home in one piece, which meant one less worry for her to hold onto.
“Daddy!” Ellie jumped up from her seat at the table and with a shriek of laughter ran to meet her father as he crossed the archway into the kitchen. She jumped into his arms. “Look how I’m pretty,” she declared, showing off the pink and white tutu she wore, complete with purple fanny pack
“Prettiest little girl in the world for sure.” Michael lifted Ellie high into the air, then pulled her close. She snuggled against him. “Are you ready for your big night?” he asked.
“Yep, but Mama says I gotta eat supper first.” Ellie pointed to the plate of spaghetti on the table.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Michael said.
“Good,” Janet said, backing out of the fridge. She let out a puff of exasperation and held out a container of cheese “Then maybe you can get her to eat something. I haven’t been able to get her to sit still for five seconds.”
Michael lowered Ellie onto a kitchen chair, then went over to Janet and took the small, green canister from her. “You want her to eat Parmesan?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Funny.”
Michael leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips, “Tough day or just being grouchy?”
“Both,” Janet admitted, and closed the refrigerator door. “Sorry. I’m a little fried. I’ve still got to get to the mall to buy leotards. Ellie ripped her last pair when she was getting dressed.” She peered around Michael’s shoulder. “Ellie, eat a little something, honey, will you? We’re really late.”
“But I don’t want to eat worms,” Ellie said.
Janet rolled her eyes and sidestepped Michael. “Just try a little.”
Ellie shook her head. “I can’t. Look, they’re wiggling on the plate!”
“Your spaghetti is not wiggling,” Janet insisted.
“It’s only five,” Michael whispered. “A little early for supper. Maybe she’s just not hungry.”
Ellie, obviously overhearing, clapped enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m not hungry. Can we have pizza?”
Janet swatted Michael’s arm. “Thanks a lot.”
He grinned sheepishly and loosened his tie. “So where’d the two of you go off to earlier? Chad said you came by the funeral home with a delivery but didn’t stick around long.”
“I had too much to do. Lock up the shop, cook supper, dress Ellie for the recital, now the mall. And I still have to pack for our trip to the cabin.” Janet turned away and gathered up Ellie’s plate and cup, feeling a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t as if she’d lied to Michael. She did have a lot to do. The rest of the truth, though, had nothing to do with chores. She just didn’t know how to explain the real reason she’d rushed out of the funeral home without sounding like a loon.
Janet gave Michael a brief smile on her way to the sink. “Besides, I knew I’d see that good-looking face of yours at home.”
Michael waggled his eyebrows. “So you think I
’m good-looking, huh?”
“I think you’re pretty, Daddy,” Ellie said.
“Thanks, doodlebug.”
“Now what about your supper?” Janet asked him as she scraped leftovers into the garbage disposal. “Think I can get some food into you for a change?”
“Maybe later. I’ve got to shower, put on a fresh suit, then get back to the funeral home and take care of a couple of things.”
“You are coming, right?” Janet asked.
“Uh . . . where?”
“The re-ci-tal.”
Michael gave her a lopsided grin.
Janet returned it despite her pensive mood. “Seven o’clock, okay?”
“Yeah, Daddy, you gotta come see me be a butterfly.” Ellie scooted off her chair and ran up to him. “Watch.”
Janet groaned as Ellie wound up for an impromptu performance. “Ellie, we’re so late. You need to put your shoes on and get your costume bag out of your room.”
“Okay,” Ellie said, then leaped across the floor and did a swaggering twirl before Janet could protest further. She flitted back and forth in front of her parents. “What about that?”
Michael applauded loudly. “Beautiful job! You’re the best butterfly ever.”
Ellie beamed, then skipped away in search of her shoes.
“A ballerina with a fanny pack,” Michael said as soon as Ellie was out of earshot. “Think they’ll convince her to take it off?”
“Not unless someone brings a tub of water,” Janet said. “You know the only time it comes off is for her bath.”
Michael chuckled. “True.” He went over to Janet and gathered her in his arms. His eyes locked onto hers. “You okay?”
Janet hesitated for a beat. “Yeah. You?”
“Yep.”
“You look tired.”
“You worry too much.”
“No really.” Janet brushed a finger across his left cheek. “You look kind of pale.”
“A funeral director’s supposed to look pale.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
Janet grinned and leaned her forehead against his chest. “You know if you’d rather wait to go to the cabin after—”
Grave Intent Page 2
