Until Next Time Read Online Free

white teeth. The dimple deepened. “Cherishing the past. Looking to the future.”
    “Ah, I see.” Actually, she didn’t. But she was suddenly caught in those impossible eyes. It made her uncomfortable. Sexual attraction to a man was one thing, but having tingling feelings about one who had just lost his grandmother was another. The grandson of a client, no less. It was sticky territory that made her want to hike up her skirt and run for the door.
    “Sure you don’t want something? Ma’s a great cook. Haven’t been able to get her out of the kitchen all day practically…even though people have brought a truckload of food over already.”
    Did his thumb stroke her elbow? Or was she imagining things? She stepped to the side, putting a good two feet between them. He released her like it was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t to him. That was a relief.
    “Quinn!” He spun around at the sound of his name. A man about his height, build, and age, with a striking resemblance stood in the doorframe down the hall. “Two minutes!”
    He waved the man off. “We’re coming, Del.” His gaze caught hers again. “You sure you don’t want anything? Water even?”
    “No.” She eyed the front doorway behind her. “I won’t be staying long.”
    His expression was gentle. “I understand.”
    What did he understand? Because she sure hadn’t understood anything since agreeing to this little get-together.
    “Come on.” He held out his hand. “You can sit next to me. When you’re ready to go, I can help you leave without being noticed.”
    His long fingers wiggled, waiting for a response. Tentatively, Piper slid her hand into his. He rewarded her with a warm squeeze and led her through the suddenly empty hallways and into a room twice the size of her largest viewing room at the funeral home. Dark oak shelves lined every wall. Mountains of books were stacked neatly in every possible space. Rows of chairs had been placed in the center, all facing a podium and large white screen at the front of the room. Almost every chair was full. Piper closed her eyes and took a settling breath.
    Quinn’s thumb rubbed the back of her hand. She did not imagine that.
    “Right by the door.” He led her to an open seat in the back. “Like I promised.”
    “Thank you.”
    Quinn settled in next to her, their knees brushing. He didn’t flinch or blush or pull away. It looked like he was being normal. She could do normal. She scanned the faces she could still see, settling her gaze on the man by the podium, standing next to Mr. Oliver, well, George. Seeing as how she was apparently in a room full of Mr. Olivers, she’d really better start referring to them by first name.
    The man by the podium stood proudly, grimacing a bit as he went to straighten his shoulders even more. He looked like Quinn, only much older.
    “That’s my father, Marcus,” Quinn whispered, a little too close to her ear. She immediately shifted, tilting her torso away from his voice.
    The lights dimmed. The people hushed. The screen behind Marcus lit up. And then he spoke.
    “Family is a blessing. As a family, we honor each and every one of you with us today…and those who have passed onto greater things.” His voice was clipped with military precision. “Today we gather to celebrate the loving life of Doris Oliver, my mother.”
    A picture flashed on the screen. Piper assumed it to be Doris when she was much younger. The similarities to Doris, Quinn, and the rest of the family were obvious.
    “When loved ones die,” he continued, “we will mourn the loss of their physical body. We will no longer feel their embraces, see their smiles or hear their magical voices.”
    Piper’s throat went tight. She pictured her mother, how she looked twenty-one long years ago. Twenty-one years since Piper had heard her mother’s effortless and infectious laugh. Twenty-one years since she’d felt the warmth of her mother’s arms wrapped around her. Twenty-one years since she’d