though you’re catering to the needs of the living, it’s the dead that matter.”
“Well, of course, they matter. I mean, they are the ones you have to prepare, make look good for the family—”
“True. But it’s not even that.” Piper’s eyes floated to the white ceiling. Cracks were beginning to show through the old plaster. “It’s so much more. The deceased make a statement by what they leave behind. Mr. St. James left behind a family who didn’t mourn his death; he didn’t leave behind anything for them to be sad for. I respected that, while physically it was hard to work on someone I had spoken to in real life. Mr. St. James wanted to leave this earth on his own terms, without the burden of leaving others behind, so from what I gathered, he disconnected. Every dead person has a story. I like ones like his best.”
Margo’s mouth hung open. After several silent beats, she spoke. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve got, what, six months left on your internship before you can take the test and become all official and open up your own place?”
Margo’s eyes lit up. “Five months and thirteen days.”
Piper strode across the room, giving the doorframe a quick rap before turning once more to Margo. “Piece of advice? Learn how to disconnect yourself now, Margo, or you’ll never make it.”
She hustled out and up the stairs as fast her feet would take her. When the parlor door swung open, Jessica stepped into view.
“Oh, good,” Jessica huffed. “I caught you. I wanted to give you these messages before I left.” She thrust a stack of pink papers into Piper’s hand.
Piper flipped through them one by one.
“Mr. Morgan, the new product guy, will be here Tuesday at noon. The Mastersons called and gushed about the flower arrangements for Gloria’s funeral. They requested a duplicate—fake—casket arrangement for their home mantle.”
“Mmm. I’ll call Dave.”
“The city inspector scheduled your yearly walk-through—”
Piper groaned, still flipped through the endless messages.
“I scheduled it for this upcoming Monday at noon. I put all this on your calendar, so you shouldn’t have a problem keeping track.”
“Thank you, Jessica.”
“Oh, and Mr. Oliver called. Quinn, that is.”
Piper stopped short and clutched the wad of paper. “Is something wrong?”
“No. He said he had both business and personal things to discuss. I took the business message. It’s in your stack there.” Jessica hustled around the desk, shutting down her computer and switching the phone over to Piper’s work cell. Rounding the corner, she jerked her purse from the closet. “And as for the personal? Since he said he’d left one message already and since you went on a date with him, I went ahead and gave him your cell number. I was shocked he didn’t already have it.”
Piper’s throat felt suddenly constricted.
“I…uh, hope that’s okay.”
Jessica’s young baby blues were staring right at Piper. She waved the comment off. “Oh, sure, no problem. The date wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.”
“Oh, good. Okay. Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night, Jessica.”
Piper flipped through the messages until she found Quinn’s. He wanted to discuss the VA foundation thing he was doing for Mr. Ryan. Hmm…hadn’t they already covered that? The paperwork was done, and the funeral for Mr. Ryan’s wife was the next day.
Not worrying about it, she bid her goodnights to Margo and bustled out the door.
The thick evening air gave her slight pause as she stepped of the porch and made her way to her car. She would be thankful when fall arrived. Even though Wisconsin was far north, it still had smoldering summers.
With calculated efficiency, Piper stopped at the flower shop to order a duplicate casket arrangement for the Mastersons. She could have done it over the phone, but she was going to be out anyway. While there, she double-checked her impending orders for
“Well, of course, they matter. I mean, they are the ones you have to prepare, make look good for the family—”
“True. But it’s not even that.” Piper’s eyes floated to the white ceiling. Cracks were beginning to show through the old plaster. “It’s so much more. The deceased make a statement by what they leave behind. Mr. St. James left behind a family who didn’t mourn his death; he didn’t leave behind anything for them to be sad for. I respected that, while physically it was hard to work on someone I had spoken to in real life. Mr. St. James wanted to leave this earth on his own terms, without the burden of leaving others behind, so from what I gathered, he disconnected. Every dead person has a story. I like ones like his best.”
Margo’s mouth hung open. After several silent beats, she spoke. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve got, what, six months left on your internship before you can take the test and become all official and open up your own place?”
Margo’s eyes lit up. “Five months and thirteen days.”
Piper strode across the room, giving the doorframe a quick rap before turning once more to Margo. “Piece of advice? Learn how to disconnect yourself now, Margo, or you’ll never make it.”
She hustled out and up the stairs as fast her feet would take her. When the parlor door swung open, Jessica stepped into view.
“Oh, good,” Jessica huffed. “I caught you. I wanted to give you these messages before I left.” She thrust a stack of pink papers into Piper’s hand.
Piper flipped through them one by one.
“Mr. Morgan, the new product guy, will be here Tuesday at noon. The Mastersons called and gushed about the flower arrangements for Gloria’s funeral. They requested a duplicate—fake—casket arrangement for their home mantle.”
“Mmm. I’ll call Dave.”
“The city inspector scheduled your yearly walk-through—”
Piper groaned, still flipped through the endless messages.
“I scheduled it for this upcoming Monday at noon. I put all this on your calendar, so you shouldn’t have a problem keeping track.”
“Thank you, Jessica.”
“Oh, and Mr. Oliver called. Quinn, that is.”
Piper stopped short and clutched the wad of paper. “Is something wrong?”
“No. He said he had both business and personal things to discuss. I took the business message. It’s in your stack there.” Jessica hustled around the desk, shutting down her computer and switching the phone over to Piper’s work cell. Rounding the corner, she jerked her purse from the closet. “And as for the personal? Since he said he’d left one message already and since you went on a date with him, I went ahead and gave him your cell number. I was shocked he didn’t already have it.”
Piper’s throat felt suddenly constricted.
“I…uh, hope that’s okay.”
Jessica’s young baby blues were staring right at Piper. She waved the comment off. “Oh, sure, no problem. The date wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.”
“Oh, good. Okay. Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night, Jessica.”
Piper flipped through the messages until she found Quinn’s. He wanted to discuss the VA foundation thing he was doing for Mr. Ryan. Hmm…hadn’t they already covered that? The paperwork was done, and the funeral for Mr. Ryan’s wife was the next day.
Not worrying about it, she bid her goodnights to Margo and bustled out the door.
The thick evening air gave her slight pause as she stepped of the porch and made her way to her car. She would be thankful when fall arrived. Even though Wisconsin was far north, it still had smoldering summers.
With calculated efficiency, Piper stopped at the flower shop to order a duplicate casket arrangement for the Mastersons. She could have done it over the phone, but she was going to be out anyway. While there, she double-checked her impending orders for
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