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Chapter One
Dorothy
“I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Believe it, Imogen,” I said, trying to stifle my laughter. “Mr. Brooks was always a stickler for detail. He wanted his final send-off to be just right.”
Imogen sighed, her expression a mixture of shock and pride. She closed the doors to the viewing room and shook her head. “I just can’t believe he wanted to be staged at his desk, surrounded by paperwork and a cup of coffee.” She wrinkled her nose.
I nodded, recalling the meticulous instructions Mr. Brooks had left behind. “Yep, and don’t forget the pen in his hand. He wanted it to look like he was in the middle of something important.” Even in the afterlife, Mr. Brooks wanted everyone to think he was busy and always on top of his work.
“Promise me your final wishes have nothing to do with me propping you up anywhere. Just lay down.” Imogen leaned against the closed door and wiped her brow. “I’m going to need a plate of nachos and a virgin margarita, stat.”
“Cremate me, honey. That’s all I want.” Being a mortician, I thought about my own death and funeral more than the average person. Like Mr. Brooks, I knew how I wanted my funeral to be, though I will say mine was very much the norm.
The front door to the funeral home opened, and Imogen’s handsome baby daddy walked in. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, and his eyes homed in on Imogen. “What’s wrong?”
I hooked my arm through Imogen’s and smiled wide. “Imogen just fulfilled Mr. Brooks’ final wish of being propped up at his desk.”
Mace curled his lip. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you two talking about death and dead bodies so casually.”
Imogen pushed her hair out of her face and shrugged. “That’s life. None of us are going to make it out alive.”
Mace scoffed. “Yeah, well, you might be right, but I’d like at least sixty years with you before that happens.”
Imogen rested her hand on her growing baby bump. “Sixty years with our little girl sounds good to me, too.”
“Ugh, you two get more and more sappy every day,” I drawled.
Imogen pushed off the door and basically floated over to Mace.
I had never seen two people more in love than they were.
Sickening, but I was glad Imogen was happy.
“Are you here to take us out for margaritas and nachos?” I asked.
Mace nodded and kissed Imogen’s lips. “Whatever Imogen wants. She’s the one eating for two right now.”
Imogen smiled. “God, yes. You have no idea the things I had to do to get Mr. Brooks into that chair.”
“Dorothy didn’t help you?”
I held up my hands defensively. “Mr. Brooks left strict instructions that Imogen was the only one who was supposed to prepare him for the wake. I was on the other side of the door offering words of encouragement.”
Also, being a mortician, you never messed with the dead. If Mr. Brooks wanted Imogen to prepare him for the viewing, then that was exactly what we were going to do. We weren’t about to bring some bad or weird juju on us.
“You guys don’t find that a little bit weird?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I’m on the good side of that weirdness, so I didn’t have to do anything, so we must follow his wishes.”
Imogen rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember that when you need help with the next unruly family and friends, okay?”
I waved my hand at her. “Girl, you know I can handle whatever gets thrown at me. I made it through that clown funeral two years ago, so now I can handle anything.”
“Clown funeral?” Mace asked. “Do I even want to know?”
Imogen patted his chest and shook her head. “You might not want to know anything more about that.”
