The Dearly Departed Dating Service by Rae Renzi

Author:Rae Renzi [Renzi, Rae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781938821844
Publisher: Grey Gecko Press
Published: 2015-02-03T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

“This will be crazy fun. C’mon, Joy.” Marybob jabbed a finger into my ribs as she turned to pout into the mirror, checking her lipstick for perfection. I edged out of her poking range to finish getting dressed for the dreaded Beaujolais Festival.

“Easy for you to say—you don’t have to chat people up about coffins.”

“Forget the coffins. All you have to do is be there, check on the Silent Auction every once in a while, drink wine, and smile at everyone. And”—she lifted her eyebrows at me significantly—”scout for clients.”

“Clients? The Bereaved? At the Beaujolais Festival?”

Marybob touched up an imaginary flaw on her lips. “You never know. Besides, maybe some of our clients shouldn’t be bereaved. Might want some cheerful folks, too—know what I mean? Not everyone wants to wallow in self-pity.”

“Marybob…” I started to chide her but settled for, “Good point.”

Reflecting her festive mood, Marybob wore a skin-tight, neon-bright peacock-blue number that perfectly set off her curves and cascade of auburn hair. She was like a walking alarm bell and would be a terrific advertisement for the business.

I was a little less conspicuous. I’d chosen a simple, pale-green sheath embellished with a dark-green silk wrap shot through with silver thread. The silver sparkled in the lamplight, which made me smile and twirl around with a flourish.

Marybob grinned at me, then glanced around the room as she absently smoothed her dress. “Hey. Speaking of everyone, are they here?”

“No, they’re not here.” I fastened on my tiny diamond earrings. “The Departed have some sense of propriety.” Or I hoped they did.

“Yeah. I guess there’s not much fun in being a peeping Tom if you don’t have to peep,” she said, completely misunderstanding my statement to come up with an uncannily accurate summary of the situation.

I didn’t bother to reply. Although I wasn’t crazy about Mr. Botts’s marketing ploy, I was pretty darn pleased with my appearance. The silvery green of the dress was becoming and brought out the gold in my hair, which Marybob had styled so it slipped like silk around my shoulders. To my surprise, I realized I was a little excited. I hadn’t been to a social event—other than funerals—since before Craig died.

I’m sure Mr. Botts expected me to take a date to the festival when he purchased two tickets, but I had no date to take. I’d asked Craig if he wanted to go with me. He’d laughed and said no, he could neither eat nor drink, and undoubtedly the music would be too loud to talk.

I’d been disappointed, but he was right. So I invited Marybob, who could most definitely eat and drink and who loved loud music. She’d been happy to oblige. With Marybob along, the evening wouldn’t be boring, maybe not even relaxing, since every available male in the place would circle her like planets around the sun.

I didn’t care. I’d happily sit on the sidelines and enjoy the spectacle. “I should drive, in case you meet someone,” I said to her.

“No way. Your ride looks like a bumper-car survivor.

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