“You’ll need to have a memorial,” Fred told her gently. “I know neither of you would want a fancy funeral, but you should have something.”
Laura took a sip of the ice water to try to loosen the sudden lump in her throat. Jenny deserved a fancy funeral. Probably her lawyer friends would come, all in business black. Her neighbors would turn out, with their neatly-dressed offspring.
Who would come to her memorial? Ex-boyfriends? Her grouchy landlady? The guy who delivered her favorite Chinese take-out?
The cartel?
Not for the first time, Laura was certain that the wrong person had been in that car.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed faintly, knowing she looked sick.
Fred patted her hand. “You leave all the details to me, sweetie. I’ll arrange a nice, quiet memorial and can take care of all the paperwork.”
It was an echo from years ago, and Laura felt like she was seventeen again, lost and afraid and adrift.
The only difference was that Jenny wasn’t here to cling to.
There was a sudden rise in the hum of conversation at the restaurant as guests began to arrive en mass, laughing loudly about the beach-side sunset photoshoot.
Laura choked down the last of her fish and told Fred she planned to head to bed early. “There’s a marathon kick-off pretty early tomorrow that I’d like to catch,” she said, mostly meaning it.
He gave her a fatherly hug that she couldn’t politely dodge, and stayed for dessert while she fled.
Chapter 8
“What’s next on the Mr. Shifter schedule?” Travis asked, collapsing onto a stool at the end of the bar. “I got the generator for the laundry room back up again, but I have no idea how long it will keep working. Tell Breck that the second washer needs his special kick.”
Tex poured him an orange juice. “I see a bed in your schedule,” he suggested.
“One more stop,” Travis protest, downing the orange juice. “Broken fan in cottage three.”
“Hasn’t that fan been broken twice this week already?” Bastian, just off lifeguard duty as the sun went down, slid onto a recently abandoned stool. Most of the post photo-shoot crowd had milled off for dinner at the restaurant, and Tex could hear them on the deck above, laughing and carousing. He’d just sent a tray of fancy drinks up with one of the waitresses who was running her tail off.
“I’m beginning to think they’re breaking it on purpose,” Travis said darkly.
“Probably, they’re just enjoying watching you climb up on that ladder,” Bastian teased. “Everyone’s in the Mr. Shifter mood for a little show.”
Tex served Bastian a shot of cinnamon whiskey, neat, and consulted the resort schedule. “To answer your first question, Travis, it looks like early tomorrow morning is the Mr. Speed event, the marathon to the airport and back. And tomorrow evening is the Mr. Fur, Fins, or Feather animal event.”
“How does that even work?” Bastian asked, tossing down his shot. “I mean, how would you judge between all the different animals? Cage match?”
Travis laughed, pushing his glass back over the counter. “I think they are evaluated against species ideals and assigned values by expert judges. I know Lydia’s got her girls booked for the entire afternoon for grooming services. Guests are grumbling about how hard it is to get any spa services.”
“I know we should be grateful that business is so good after a long dry spell, but I will be very glad to have things back to some kind of normal,” Tex said wearily. He glanced longingly at his guitar, leaning in the corner of the bar. Most days, he had plenty of opportunity to sit behind the bar and play. This week, between the madhouse of guests and assisting Travis in getting the resort into top working order, he hadn’t touched the strings. Every spare moment was spent restocking, or cleaning, or repairing.
“Speaking of normal,” Bastian said, raising an eyebrow.
Tex looked at him blankly.
“What’s up with your mate?” Travis finished for him.
Tex was glad that a guest sidled up and requested a drink, but when they wandered off to the pool deck with it, Travis and Bastian were still staring at him expectantly.
“Aren’t you too busy for gossip?” he asked crossly. “I am.”
Travis and Bastian exchanged knowing looks.
“She still denying it?” Travis asked pityingly.