Take Me Home for Christmas. Brenda Novak

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      She managed to shove herself into a sitting position. “Ripping you off! It’s Dale and Sharon who owe you. They made the arrangements.” She hadn’t wanted that expensive casket and headstone, or all those flowers. She’d wanted to have Skip cremated and be done with it, but her in-laws had taken over, and she’d let them because she didn’t have any money to insist one way or the other.

      “I called them. They told me it’s your responsibility. I guess Gail DeMarco-O’Neal gave you some money while she was here? Sharon said that was supposed to cover Mr. DeBussi’s burial costs.”

      What? Anger flooded Sophia’s system. She should never have told her in-laws about that kind gesture. Gail hadn’t given her that money for any such purpose. It wasn’t enough, anyway. Skip’s parents were the ones who’d ordered everything. Sophia had been shocked by how much they were willing to spend, considering he’d cost them their life’s savings, but she’d chalked it up to habit and that fierce DeBussi pride. They could never be honest about anything. Appearances were all that mattered. Perhaps she’d been guilty of the same thing earlier in her life. But she hadn’t been guilty of racking up nearly $15,000 in funeral expenses!

      “I’m afraid most of Gail’s money is gone, Mr. Halloway,” she said. “I—I had to pay the people who were working for me. And what’s left is all I’ve got to take care of Alexa until...until I find a job.”

      “I have a family to support, too,” he pressed. “I told you in the beginning I wouldn’t perform the service unless you paid me in advance.”

      “Exactly. And you didn’t change your mind until Skip’s parents got involved. You were dealing with them.”

      “They’ve been part of the community for so long I never dreamed they’d do this to me, but it seems Skip inherited his dishonesty from them.”

      Sophia didn’t want to be seen as a crook. She supposed it was a good sign that she still cared enough for that to bother her. But he was just one of many who were clamoring for money. She couldn’t possibly satisfy them all. “I’m sorry, I really am, but...I can’t help you.”

      “I don’t feel it’s fair for me to take the loss,” he said. “I buried your husband, didn’t I? Now I’d like to stop by and pick up at least a partial payment.”

      She had so little left. But how could she say no? It wasn’t fair that he shouldn’t get paid for the funeral. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.

      “I can give you a hundred bucks,” she told him.

      “That’s better than nothing. I’ll be right over,” he said and hung up.

      With a sigh, she slumped onto the pillows. She had such a blinding headache, couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten and was beginning to feel dehydrated.

      She hoped Alexa would get home in time to handle Clarence, but the doorbell rang while her daughter was still gone. Summoning what remained of her strength, Sophia managed to get up and force her leaden feet to move. She pulled on a robe, collected the money from her purse on the kitchen counter where Alexa had put it, and went to the door.

      The undertaker raised his eyebrows when he saw her, but he glanced away and took the money. “I’ll come by next month,” he said tersely and turned to leave without another word.

      Sophia stood in the doorway, watching until she couldn’t see his black Cadillac anymore. Next month? Fine. That sounded like an eternity from now. She had no idea how she’d survive until then—and part of her hoped she wouldn’t.

      8

      “What are you looking at?”

      Eve Harmon glanced over as Cheyenne Amos came to stand next to her at the window. Since Chey had married Dylan, she didn’t usually work late at the B and B, not like she used to. When she’d been living with her sick mother and troubled sister, she’d taken advantage of any reason to stay out of the house.

      “I thought you’d gone home,” Eve told her.

      “I wanted to finish the new brunch menus.”

      “Dylan must be working overtime at the body shop.”

      “Aaron’s closing tonight. Dylan’s at the house, making dinner.”

      “God, he cooks, too?” Eve grinned. She often teased Cheyenne about her sexy husband. She was happy for her best friend—she’d never seen Cheyenne happier—but she couldn’t help feeling left out, maybe even a trifle jealous. She’d never believed she needed a man in order to be fulfilled, but with so many of her friends marrying, she wished she could find someone to share her life with.

      “It’ll be steak,” Cheyenne said. “That’s what he makes whenever he cooks.”

      “There could be worse foods.” Eve almost said something about inviting her over next time Dylan’s brother, Aaron, would be there. She’d thought of mentioning it before. But Aaron had anger management issues. As gorgeous as he was, she’d be stupid to get involved with him, especially when Cheyenne’s sister had already traveled down that road and it had ended in a broken heart.

      “True,” Cheyenne agreed.

      Eve felt her smile wilt as she returned her attention to the scene outside the window.

      Cheyenne looked out, trying to follow Eve’s gaze, but the lonely figure Eve had noticed a few minutes earlier was sitting too far to the right, in the shadow of a large headstone.

      “You didn’t answer my question,” Cheyenne said. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of Little Mary again.”

      Six-year-old Mary Margaret had been strangled in the basement over a century ago. She was their resident ghost—maybe. Eve wasn’t convinced that Mary hadn’t moved on. “Not this time.” She pointed to the newest plot in the Whiskey Creek cemetery. “Alexa DeBussi is out there.”

      Cheyenne frowned as she finally located the young teen, who had a grocery bag at her side. “Poor girl.”

      It was obvious that Sophia’s daughter was crying as she sat there, huddled against her father’s headstone.

      “I wonder if Sophia knows she’s here,” Cheyenne said.

      “I haven’t seen Sophia for the past couple of weeks. Have you?” Eve had placed a few calls to Sophia’s cell phone, including the one in which she mentioned the job Ted had available, but they hadn’t been returned.

      Cheyenne shook her head. “No. I sent flowers since I couldn’t attend the funeral. And I’ve stopped by twice, but no one answered the door.”

      The fact that Cheyenne hadn’t been able to come to the funeral reminded Eve of Wyatt. “How’s your nephew doing?” she asked. Cheyenne’s sister had the cutest little boy. He meant everything to his mother. He meant a great deal to Cheyenne, too, which was why she and Dylan had been at the hospital in Fresno, where Presley lived, instead of at the funeral.

      “He’s fine now. The pneumonia’s gone. Thank goodness. I can’t imagine what Presley would do if anything happened to him.”

      “Do СКАЧАТЬ