Page 26 of The Dearly Departed

Gratitude itself spun me on my heel, and I was thrilled to have someone to assist.

"Yes?" I asked, facing the wife of the deceased Ronny Malloy. "How can I help you, Mrs. Malloy?"

The elderly woman smiled kindly, but couldn't hide the air of overstimulation as she fluttered a hand in the direction of the viewing room.

"We need more water,” she said, flustered and frazzled. “I tried to find it myself, but I don't even know where to look, and I've had three people now come up to me—"

"It's all right," I said with a nod I hoped seemed reassuring. "I'll take care of it."

She led the way into the room, leaning against the cane she carried. Her daughter—a middle-aged blonde with a permanent expression of exasperation—spotted us immediately and sighed, slapping her hands against her thighs.

"Mom," she groaned, pushing through a group of suited men when she could've easily walked around them. "I told you I would handle the water."

"Well, you were talking with what's her name over there, and three people asked me if there was something to drink—"

"It was five minutes, Mom! Three people did not ask for water in five minutes!"

I forced a smile that hopefully said none of this back-and-forth was grating on my nerves and held up my hands.

"I have it all under control," I said gently, facing the daughter. "I'll get the pitchers filled up and—"

"Where is Leonard?” she asked, peering around me into the foyer. "I wanted to have a word with him about the prayer cards."

"Is there a problem with the cards?"

Mrs. Malloy’s white brows pinched as she shook her head. "What are you talking about, Whitney? There wasn't anything wrong with the prayer cards. I thought they were lovely." She extended a hand to lay it over my wrist, and I fought the urge to pull away. "Please tell Leonard that they are absolutely beautiful. The foiling is the perfect—"

"They look awful! I specifically asked for Jesus to be centered, but he's not. It looks sloppy. Very unprofessional."

People were strange when they were grieving, I’d found. They focused on the things that didn't matter to distract themselves from the things that did. Clearly, Whitney was choosing to fixate on a slight misalignment of a generic stock photo of Christ Almighty instead of the open casket of her beloved father. Leonard lectured me on the importance of patience and empathy on a regular basis, and I was getting better. But there was only so much of this I'd be able to take before my tongue was completely severed from my mouth from biting it so hard.

I folded my hands over my middle and bowed my head with a curt nod. "I will let Leonard know that you're unhappy with the quality of the prayer cards. I'm sure he'll—"

"Where is he? I was unaware he wouldn't be here tonight. If I'd known he was going to leave a child in charge—"

"Ma'am," I interjected gently, "Leonard had to step out for a minute, but he'll be back soon. If you'd like to talk to him, I will be sure to let him know as soon as—"

"I think I've made it very clear that that's exactly what I'd like to do."

With a tight smile, I nodded once more. "Of course. I'll send him in the moment he's back."

I was already on my way to the first of the water pitchers when Whitney stopped me.

"Are you forgetting about the water?!"

"Taking care of it right now, ma'am," I said, fighting the urge to grind my teeth together.

As it turned out, all three pitchers were empty, and I silently berated myself for not topping them off sooner. Leonard would've checked. Leonard would've made it a point to take a quick pass through the room every few minutes. That was what I should've been doing instead of being bored in the foyer.

I huffed, irritated with myself, as I left the room with two of the pitchers, only to be stopped in my tracks.

There, standing right inside the door, was a man in a worn leather jacket and blue jeans. His hair was scraggly, his beard unkempt. Everything about his appearance said he might be homeless, but the heavy gold chain around his neck suggested otherwise.

Fear flooded my chest, making it hard for my lungs to fill with the air they needed to breathe.

But that fear wasn't directed at my own well-being.

No, I was scared for Leonard.