her hands. “I, um, have never before seen an undertaker d-dress in yellow-and-green plaid.”
Tickled, Tate forced a sober manner. “Well, the shirt was yellow-and-green. Technically, the pants were yellow, green and orange. ”
Her lips wiggled. She straightened them and squared her shoulders. “Is he actually an undertaker? Not a bereavement counselor o-or casket salesman?”
“Third-generation mortician,” Tate confirmed evenly. “All the Eversleighs are certified undertakers, three brothers, three funeral homes around the county.”
Her blue eyes grew quite large behind the lenses of her glasses. “Are the other two Eversleighs like him?”
Tate shook his head thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, no. Dale is one of a kind. The other two are more staid, I guess you’d say, and both married.”
She shrugged so eloquently that Tate grinned, feeling quite generous all of a sudden.
“All kidding aside, Dale’s harmless and a decent guy. He’s given plenty of folks around here a break when they couldn’t afford his services. I doubt he even thought of applying a surcharge for letting people order your flowers from the funeral home.”
“That’s good to know,” Lily said, smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind in the future.”
“Just don’t play golf with him,” Tate warned good-naturedly.
Lily chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t, even if he were interested in me, which I doubt.”
Tate, who for some reason couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone, scoffed at that. “He’s interested.”
Lily ducked her head, pushing up her glasses at the same time, and said, “Not likely. I’m not the sort men notice. If I were, I’d have had at least one real boyfriend by now. Don’t you think?”
For the second time in the space of a quarter-hour, Tate felt his jaw drop. She could not be serious. How did a woman like her get to be twenty-seven years of age without some guy seeing how special and lovely and talented she was? Dale had seen it, and Tate felt certain that others around town had seen it, too. Sure, she was a bit reticent, but her sweetness more than made up for that. Isabella adored her.
What was he thinking? Isabella would adore any woman who gave her the time of day, any woman of an age to be her… The word mother made him step back.
Lily tried to smile, but her gaze did not meet his and the apples of her cheeks glowed a pronounced shade of pink. “E-excuse me, b-but I have some…things to do.”
“Right,” Tate muttered, remembering the paper curled inside his fist. “I, uh, brought over the list of people the committee recommends.” He spread the paper on the counter. “Everyone listed here is anxious to work.”
“I understand.”
He left the paper on the counter and rubbed his hands together lightly. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He all but ran from the shop and leaped into the truck.
What was wrong with him, anyway? He had no business getting upset by the likes of Dale Eversleigh. What did he care if Lily played golf with Dale? Not that she was going to. A fact about which he had no business being relieved.
He had done his duty, and now, for all intents and purposes, he was done. Lily would hire someone from Bygones to help in her shop, the first person on the list, most likely, and that would be that.
Kenneth Wilbur would serve her well. Nearing forty with a teenage son and a mother suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s, Kenneth had managed to keep body and soul together by eating out of his impressive garden and doing odd jobs around town. He was scruffy and a bit rough around the edges, but Kenneth had a true affinity for anything that grew out of the ground. Lily would surely see that and hire him. With Kenneth Wilbur around to take care of things, Tate could essentially wash his hands of Lily.
And anytime now, he was going to be relieved about that .
Chapter Seven
I t was a tough decision. Lily had not expected hiring someone to be so tough. In Boston an
Tickled, Tate forced a sober manner. “Well, the shirt was yellow-and-green. Technically, the pants were yellow, green and orange. ”
Her lips wiggled. She straightened them and squared her shoulders. “Is he actually an undertaker? Not a bereavement counselor o-or casket salesman?”
“Third-generation mortician,” Tate confirmed evenly. “All the Eversleighs are certified undertakers, three brothers, three funeral homes around the county.”
Her blue eyes grew quite large behind the lenses of her glasses. “Are the other two Eversleighs like him?”
Tate shook his head thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, no. Dale is one of a kind. The other two are more staid, I guess you’d say, and both married.”
She shrugged so eloquently that Tate grinned, feeling quite generous all of a sudden.
“All kidding aside, Dale’s harmless and a decent guy. He’s given plenty of folks around here a break when they couldn’t afford his services. I doubt he even thought of applying a surcharge for letting people order your flowers from the funeral home.”
“That’s good to know,” Lily said, smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind in the future.”
“Just don’t play golf with him,” Tate warned good-naturedly.
Lily chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t, even if he were interested in me, which I doubt.”
Tate, who for some reason couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone, scoffed at that. “He’s interested.”
Lily ducked her head, pushing up her glasses at the same time, and said, “Not likely. I’m not the sort men notice. If I were, I’d have had at least one real boyfriend by now. Don’t you think?”
For the second time in the space of a quarter-hour, Tate felt his jaw drop. She could not be serious. How did a woman like her get to be twenty-seven years of age without some guy seeing how special and lovely and talented she was? Dale had seen it, and Tate felt certain that others around town had seen it, too. Sure, she was a bit reticent, but her sweetness more than made up for that. Isabella adored her.
What was he thinking? Isabella would adore any woman who gave her the time of day, any woman of an age to be her… The word mother made him step back.
Lily tried to smile, but her gaze did not meet his and the apples of her cheeks glowed a pronounced shade of pink. “E-excuse me, b-but I have some…things to do.”
“Right,” Tate muttered, remembering the paper curled inside his fist. “I, uh, brought over the list of people the committee recommends.” He spread the paper on the counter. “Everyone listed here is anxious to work.”
“I understand.”
He left the paper on the counter and rubbed his hands together lightly. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He all but ran from the shop and leaped into the truck.
What was wrong with him, anyway? He had no business getting upset by the likes of Dale Eversleigh. What did he care if Lily played golf with Dale? Not that she was going to. A fact about which he had no business being relieved.
He had done his duty, and now, for all intents and purposes, he was done. Lily would hire someone from Bygones to help in her shop, the first person on the list, most likely, and that would be that.
Kenneth Wilbur would serve her well. Nearing forty with a teenage son and a mother suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s, Kenneth had managed to keep body and soul together by eating out of his impressive garden and doing odd jobs around town. He was scruffy and a bit rough around the edges, but Kenneth had a true affinity for anything that grew out of the ground. Lily would surely see that and hire him. With Kenneth Wilbur around to take care of things, Tate could essentially wash his hands of Lily.
And anytime now, he was going to be relieved about that .
Chapter Seven
I t was a tough decision. Lily had not expected hiring someone to be so tough. In Boston an
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