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Chapter 6
Five days later, Lainey sat stiffly in an uncomfortable chair at Forrest and Son’s funeral home. Ron’s body had been autopsied and released, and she needed to take care of this now. It sounded callous, and she’d never admit it to anyone else, but she didn’t want this chore hanging over her head. Her marriage had ended long before Ron was killed. She wanted to erase all traces of him from her life.
“Mrs. Martin. My deepest condolences on your loss.” A young blond man slid into the chair on the other side of the desk and folded his hands on the wood. She was pretty sure they trembled.
Lainey curled her fingers into her palms. She would not correct him about her name. All she wanted was to finish this chore and flee the somber, dreary funeral home.
Clearing his throat, the young man said, “I’m here to guide you through making your arrangements with the least difficulty possible. My job is to assist you in making these painful decisions.”
Besides looking nervous, the kid rattled off the words as if reciting a memorized script. He was probably one of the ‘and Sons’, and Lainey felt a spurt of sympathy for him. Had he chosen to become a funeral director? Or had it been expected of him?
So no snark about her name. Easier and faster to let it go with someone she’d probably never see again. “Thank you, Mr. Forrest. I appreciate your concern.”
The kid nodded, the tips of his ears pink. Maybe grieving family members didn’t often thank him. “We’ll help you pick out a casket. If you don’t have a burial plot, we can help with that, as well.” He pressed his fingers into the desktop, so hard that his fingers whitened, then leaned slightly toward her. “What are your thoughts about the service, Mrs. Martin? Do you have a home church? Have you been in touch with your pastor? Or did you have someone else in mind to speak?”
Lainey straightened her spine. Took a deep breath. It was one thing to sympathize with a young man who’d looked nervous. It was another thing to allow him to steer her toward something she didn’t want. “I want to have Ron cremated, Mr. Forrest. There won’t be a wake or a funeral service. Ron was murdered. His throat was cut, and so there would be no open casket. We were in the middle of a divorce, and if Ron’s family would like to arrange something, I’ll put them in touch with you.”
She’d spoken to Ron’s mother and his two sisters. All of them had been shocked. But only his mother had expressed any grief. She’d sobbed quietly while Lainey murmured empty words of sympathy, biting her tongue and counting the minutes until she could get off the phone.
Both of Ron’s sisters had thanked her for calling. Offered their condolences. But neither of them had seemed terribly grief-stricken. Based on the few times she’d met his family and seen Ron interact with them, Lainey suspected Ron had bullied his sisters growing up. Lainey almost certainly hadn’t been his first victim. He was no rookie -- Ron was way too skilled at knowing where to hit so it wouldn’t show.
After selecting an urn and paying for the cremation, Lainey stood up and shook the funeral director’s hand. “Thanks, Mr. Forrest. You’ve been very kind. You’ll call me when his, um, ashes are ready?”
“I’ll do that, Mrs. Martin. It should be about a week.”
Lainey nodded and strode down the corridor toward the door. The scent of lilies lingered in the hall, making her stomach churn. She’d always connected that scent with death.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air when she stepped outside, she climbed into her car and drove home.
No. She was returning to Brody’s ranch, although it felt more like a home than the house on Ranchview Road. The place where she’d lived with Ron held nothing but bitter and painful memories of their marriage. She’d have to make a decision about the place, but she’d been putting it off. She didn’t want to think about Ron or their house right now.
It was telling that in five short days, she felt more at home at Brody’s than she’d ever felt in the Ranchview house. That was pathetic. But Brody was unfailingly kind and respectful. She enjoyed talking to him. Sharing meals with him. Even though she had to fight the attraction that burned every time they were in the same room, she was comfortable on Brody’s ranch.
She’d met everyone else on the ranch -- his foreman Brett, who was Vi’s husband. Frank, Chase and Garrett, the three other hands who worked the ranch. Everyone had been welcoming. Respectful. She’d been helping Vi in the kitchen, and enjoyed the other woman’s company. She felt as if they were becoming friends.
When she reached the gate, she pressed the transponder Brody had given her, bumped over the cattle guard and drove to the house. It was still light -- in Montana, the days were still long in early September.
Her heartbeat quickened as she parked the car and hurried into the house, and she knew why -- she was eager to see Brody. Standing at the front door, she willed her heart to slow. Took deep breaths until she felt steady enough to greet Brody casually. Finally under control, she stepped into the house.
Violet was in the kitchen -- the radio that accompanied her cooking playing a familiar country song. She didn’t see Brody, so she hurried upstairs to change her clothes. Finally, wearing soft, worn jeans and an old sweatshirt, she descended the stairs again.
Brody appeared from the corridor that led to his office. “Lainey. How did it go at the funeral home?” He studied her face, then led her into the living room. “Want a glass of wine?”
She drew in a deep breath. Let it out. “I’d love one.”
He reached for her hand, then let his fingers drop before he touched her. “I was afraid it was going to be tough. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
He returned in a few minutes with a glass of red wine for her and a bottle of beer for himself. Waited while she sat in her usual chair, then lowered himself into the other. In just a few days, they’d developed a comfortable routine in the evenings.
She’d forgotten how lovely comfortable could be. Or maybe she’d never known before now.
Taking a pull from his beer, he set it on the table between the chairs and leaned toward her. “Was it just the funeral home that upset you? Or was there something else?”
She sipped her wine and set it on the table, shocked that she wanted to tell Brody about her day. She hadn’t had conversations with Ron in the evening. If he wasn’t working, he’d watch television or play a video game. She’d watch whatever was on, or read a book if he was gaming.
She took a deep breath and stared into the dark red depths of her wine. “One of my clients cancelled, so I went out to get some lunch. A fast food place.” She sighed. “I should have gone to the drive-thru, and next time I will.” She took a too-big gulp of wine. Coughed twice.
“It felt as if everyone in the restaurant was staring at me,” she whispered. “I saw a few people I knew and said hello. One of them, the wife of a deputy who’d worked with Ron, stared at me then turned away.” She set her glass carefully on the table. “It was excruciating.”
