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“I just thought you should know.” Nick patted my knee. “In case you were actually thinking about texting him, better have all the information now, right?”
“I wasn’t going to text him.” I puffed up my cheeks and slowly exhaled. I might’ve replied if he’d contacted me first, though. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
He gave my knee a lingering squeeze and stood. “Of course. I’m always here for you, Daze. Don’t forget it.”
My stomach churned after Nick left. Picking up my phone, I stared at Miles’ contact. My thumb hovered over it for less than a second before I pressed down and deleted it. I had absolutely no need for his number. It wasn’t like I’d ever planned on contacting him anyway.
After throwing on a pair of black trousers and a matching button-down, I crossed the back courtyard to the main house.
The home I grew up in wasn’t just mine. The basement and first floor made up the Dunham Family Funeral Home, while our family lived on the top floor. Whenever I told anyone that, they automatically thought of ghosts. They might’ve pretended it wasn’t the first thought that popped into their heads, but it was.
Unfortunately, nothing supernatural had happened growing up above a funeral home. The dead stayed dead and didn’t reveal any profound wisdom to me from beyond the veil. That would have been far more interesting.
Living above a funeral home was just…normal. It was all I knew.
I found my mother in one of the visiting rooms, bustling around. She always bustled. Her hands were busy, and her steps were short and swift, no matter what she was doing.
“Hey, Mama,” I greeted as I entered.
“Afternoon, Daze.” She stopped wiping a table for a moment and pointed to a stack of programs. “Can you lay those out for me?”
“Here and there?” I asked.
“Just like always,” she chirped.
Like the lack of ghosts, Whitney Mae Dunham also threw new people for a loop. When they met me and heard where I’d grown up, they expected my mother to look like Morticia Addams. She was the exact opposite.
Alabama raised, a southern belle to her core, my mom had big, blonde curls and a smile that was bright and sincere. She favored skirts over pants, in somber, neutral tones at work and colorful, cheery prints in her off time.
She doted on her children and loved her husband something fierce. And she gave of herself to everyone who walked into our funeral home in the throes of horrible grief. For someone so small, she gave the most comforting, warm hugs, and she wasn’t stingy with them. Anyone who needed and wanted one got one. I’d seen her cradle sobbing grown men and embrace stiff, broken widows. They always melted into her, and she held them steady.
She helped people through one of the darkest days of their lives, and once they left, most hoped to never see her again.
Yet, she remained bright and happy. Loving and unfailingly kind. I had no idea how she could be so open to people who disdained her existence once they no longer needed our services, but she didn’t seem to have any trouble with it.
I, on the other hand, had slowly built a resentment toward people who used, took, and discarded. Most of them wealthy, like the Aldrichs.
My mother followed me, straightening the programs I’d laid out. I waited for her by the sliding doors leading to the lobby.
“This is the last viewing today?” I asked.
“Yes. We had one this morning too, but it was small. We’re expecting quite a crowd for this one.”
“Who died?”
“His name is Frank. He was on the board for Rossi Motors and ran several businesses in town.” She clucked her tongue. “The poor man was only fifty-eight. Much too young.”
My mother probably knew a lot more about him than that. She always memorized the details of those who passed through here. It was part of what made her so good at this job.
We finished in the visiting room, and I trailed after her to her office. I wasn’t an official employee, but I helped out when asked. My mother didn’t ask nearly as often as she should have. She had this idea I needed time and freedom to pursue my goals—which had nothing to do with running a funeral home.
“All right, now that we’ve got everything ready to go, let’s chat.” She settled in the chair beside mine. “Tell me what you’ve accomplished this week.”
“I got out of bed every single day.”
She clapped. “Good job, babe. Your skin is glowin’, so I suspect you got some sun.”
“I went for a hike yesterday.”
