Until Next Time Read online

  “Grandpa?” Dad asked.

  “I was going to check on him now.”

  “Good. Find your brothers, and make sure everything is in place. All the glasses and plates should be full. All the children pacified with games. You got the games, right?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Good. Good. I’m going to set up the projector in a few minutes.” He glanced at his watch, squinting because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “We’ll start at nineteen hundred.”

  “We’ll be ready. No worries, sir.”

  With a quick nod, Quinn’s father spun about and limped off toward the library.

  Quinn bustled through the crowd, careful not to step on toes or bump into anyone. He was stopped for cheerful talk more times than he could count. He finally found his brothers lounging in the sunroom off the back of the house.

  He frowned at both of them as he walked into the sunlit space. Del was half-asleep on the chaise, and KC was tapping away at his phone.

  “Dad’s looking for you two.”

  Their heads snapped up. Within seconds, they were on their feet.

  “What’s he need?” KC slid his phone into his jacket pocket and made a beeline for the door.

  “Drinks and food. Make sure everyone’s got them. We’re starting at seven. Where’s Sarah?”

  “I was texting her. She’s running around with the kids. One day chasing other people’s kids isn’t going to be enough for her.”

  Quinn only smiled at the light tone in which his brother spoke. KC and Sarah had been married for over a year now. Quinn and Sarah shared a similar, difficult past, and he was happy KC had found her. They made a great couple, an even better team. And Quinn knew that both of them would make the best parents, showering their children with love, adoration and determination, same as their parents had done for them.

  “I’ll take care of the drinks and food,” KC said. “Sarah can be herded in with the rest of the crowd.”

  Del shuffled to the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Me?”

  “The kids. Track Sarah down, and she’ll show you what to do. The games are in my trunk.” He tossed Del his keys. “Set them up in the playroom downstairs.”

  “I don’t have to watch them, do I?” Del muttered.

  Quinn laughed. “No. Cousin Marci’s agreed to that task.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Hurry up.” Quinn darted back out the door. “Clock’s ticking…and Dad doesn’t like any kinks in his plan.”

  Quinn stifled a laugh at the grumbling of his brothers as he maneuvered back through the house to find his grandpa. Their father had a strong-willed controlling love that they’d never fully embraced. They’d pushed against it every chance they’d gotten. And yet, they still obeyed when Marcus Oliver, military man and Air Force pilot extraordinaire, barked a command. As did Quinn.

  Quinn weaved to the kitchen once more, making sure his mother truly needed no more help. When she practically shoved him out the door, he went through the living room, the dining room, the back and front hall, searched the upstairs and down, and still couldn’t find his grandpa. He stopped in the foyer and scratched his head.

  Del strode in through the front door with a load of children’s games. The Barrel of Monkeys box fell from the top of the stack and crashed to the floor as Del shut the door behind him.

  Quinn picked up the game and put it under Del’s chin. “You seen Grandpa?”

  Del nodded and jerked his head toward the door. “He’s on the front porch with that lady from the funeral home.”

  Quinn’s pulse sped up a notch. He looked at his watch. “Library, fifteen minutes. I’ll bring Grandpa.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quinn playfully jabbed Del in the arm. “Just go.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a snort, Del strolled down the hall to the stairs.

  Quinn glanced back at the front door. Before opening it, he tightened the knot on his tie and smoothed a hand over his dress shirt. Then he stepped out onto the wooden porch.

  The breath he’d drawn in rushed out when he saw Ms. Downing perched on the rickety swing with his grandpa, just as it had when he’d seen her earlier that day.

  Her cinnamon hair, still tight in a cute little bun, looked even better under the setting evening sun. Little tendrils had escaped, and she brushed them behind her ear. The creak of the floorboard beneath his feet drew her and Grandpa’s attention up. He straightened.

  “Macy!” Grandpa smacked a hand on his fragile knee and struggled to get to his feet. Ms. Downing held out her slender hand for balance, and Grandpa took it with an eager smile. “Come and meet Ms. Downing.”

  Quinn gulped and took a step forward.

  “Please, Mr. Oliver,” Ms. Downing said as she rose to her feet. “It’s Piper.”

  Grandpa gave a hooting laugh. “Then it’s George to you, my dear.” He waved Quinn forward, holding out his hand. “Macy, let me introduce you to Piper.”

  Quinn did as requested, putting himself right in front of the woman’s small frame. Her eyes fluttered briefly before focusing on his face. Grandpa took her hand and settled it into Quinn’s.

  “Piper Downing,” Grandpa said. “This is my grandson Macy.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes playfully and gripped Piper’s hand gently. “Macy Quinn Oliver,” he replied. “Please, call me Quinn.”

  Her delicate brow rose, allowing a flicker of light to cast a glow off her eyes. Eyes that perfectly matched the color of her hair.

  “Yes.” She gave a quick sigh. “We met earlier, though not formally. It’s good to meet you, Quinn.”

  Her warm hand felt wonderful beneath his. Quinn had the sudden urge to bring it to his lips. To kiss the ivory skin and watch her cheeks grow to a rose flush. Not that he knew she would blush. But suddenly he wanted to see color light her cheeks.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s good to meet you. Has Grandpa been boring you to death?”

  “Oh, no.” Her lush pink lips curled up to show a gleaming white smile. “He’s been trying to convince me to come to your family game night.” Her gaze skidded back to Grandpa.

  “Has he now?” Quinn let her hand slide from his. “And what did you say?”

  She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, not allowing her eyes to meet his. “Maybe.”

  His brow rose. “Maybe?”

  Her dainty head nodded as the rose color he’d wanted to see swam into her cheeks. “Possibly.”

  “Ah, good. It’s fiercely competitive, though. You’ve been warned.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with a little friendly competition,” Grandpa added. His eyes narrowed in on Quinn. “Well, I’m betting you searched me out for a reason, eh?”

  Quinn’s lip curved. “Dad wants to start at seven. We better get inside.”

  His old eyes sparkled. “Guess we shouldn’t keep the drill sergeant waiting, then.” He hobbled past Quinn and Piper.

  Quinn’s vision slid back to the exquisite beauty of Piper. From the small, perfectly shaped nose to the easy curve of her lips. They were kissable lips, he was certain. “You ready to go inside?”

  “Um…yes.” She clasped her hands together. “Is, uh, your father really a drill sergeant?”

  Quinn laughed and took her elbow. “No, still likes to have his way, though, most of the time. We grew up with a great deal of respect for our father, that’s all.”

  Piper looked up when they hit the threshold to the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked. “Remember I said no one’ll bite you.”

  She fiddled with the wisps of hair around her ear. “I know. It’s…well…I’ve never…done this kind of thing before.”

  He frowned. “You’ve never been to someone’s house?”

  An adorable chuckle rolled from her lips. “No. Well, yes.” Her hand fluttered to her chest.

  She still hadn’t looked him in the eyes again. Her gaze was drawn to her feet. Or maybe it was the chipped paint on the floorboards. Or the speck of dust on her perfec
tly polished black shoe. Quinn didn’t know. But she wasn’t looking at him.

  “Piper? Uh, may I call you Piper?”

  “Of course, Mr. Oliver.”

  “Quinn.”

  “Yes. Quinn.” Her lips twitched as she said his name. Like she was trying it out.

  He tilted his head and studied her. “Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

  “Fine. Really. I don’t normally get together with clients, is all. Personally, I mean.”

  “Too painful?”

  Her flawlessly arched brow rose as she finally looked at him once again. There was something there, a spark of knowing that Quinn recognized. The woman had seen pain in her profession. He could understand. Staying a safe distance from death when she could would make sense, he guessed. And going to an after-the-viewing wake for a client probably wasn’t on her list of to-dos.

  “Something like that,” she whispered. She ushered herself past him, straightening her lean shoulders as she met the rest of his family head-on.

  <<<<>>>>>

  Piper had known that something was amiss within herself when she’d agreed to go to Mr. Oliver’s house that evening. Part of it was the fact she’d never consorted with clients before. Ever. Watching people mourn was something she did not want to witness. And getting close to people was furthest from her mind as well. But part of it was him.

  Macy Quinn Oliver.

  She could barely control the quickening of her breath as he walked beside her into the foyer. Which was so ridiculously childlike. His hand still rested on her elbow comfortably, like he escorted women all the time. He probably did.

  He led her through the hoard of family members with a cool sureness. His posture was confident, not cocky. His steps comfortable, not conceited. And she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the clear-cut lines of his profile. She was struck by the combination of his amazingly light green eyes and even lighter blond hair. The dimple on his right cheek as he greeted family and introduced her. And the glimmer in his right eye—the lighter eye. And she couldn’t help but wonder about the area surrounding that eye that was several shades lighter than the rest of the flawless, touchable skin.

  So far Piper had meet six cousins, four sets of aunts and uncles, and enough children to fill a school bus. It was a good thing she was good with names.

  “We’ll be starting in a few minutes.” His voice had an infinitely compassionate tone. Smooth but not seductive. Simple but natural. Perfect. “Are you hungry?”

  She tried her best not to fidget. “No, thank you. Um, what exactly will we be doing in five minutes?”

  His lips parted in a dazzling display of straight, 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 heard the adoring whispers of “I love you, Little Pip.” Piper’s throat constricted further.

  The pictures behind Marcus changed, showing Doris’s life. She cast a glance at George, who was smiling proudly, but with a misty look on his face.

  “But we know they are in a greater place, a happier place,” Marcus continued. “And they are waiting for us to join them. Be it days, months, or even years, we look forward to future, and cherish the past.”

  Piper’s own father flashed through her mind. His features had once been young and soft, but losing his wife had aged him in more ways than one. He’d given Piper twenty-five years of love, of guidance, of care. Then he’d perished, as swiftly and unexpectedly as her mother. With great effort, she focused back on the man at the podium.

  “So today, we will celebrate all that Doris gave us during her ninety-four years and cherish those memories, knowing that when our time comes, we will see her again and create new memories. While sadness is common in death, one must remember what comes after it. It’s only then that we see the true purpose of life. Of love.”

  Love. Piper looked down, shaking her head. She’d only loved three people her entire life. Her mother, her father, and Steven. And she’d lost them all, one by painful one. Love was overrated. Death was painful. And life, if you choose to share it with others, was ridiculously selfish. Love was selfish. That was why she didn’t do any of those things. When Piper felt the warmth of tears cresting in
her eyes, she shot to her feet, almost tipping over her chair. Thank God she was in the back row. Hopefully she didn’t look too much like a spaz.

  Quinn stood next to her.

  “I…uh…have to go.”

  He stepped to the side, allowing her to pass. She slipped as quietly from the room as possible, Quinn’s heat hot on her back. When she got to the threshold of the door, his arm caught her in that comfortable grip. She didn’t dare look at him.

  “Piper? Are you all right?”

  “Fine. I’ll be fine.”

  His hand fell away, and he took a step back. “You sure?”

  She sniffled and fiddled around with her purse to keep from looking at him. “Yes, really. Sorry I interrupted your father’s sermon…I mean, speech. Whatever.” She huffed out a ragged breath. “I’ll see my way to my car.”

  She swiveled about and bolted down the stairs, aching to get away from the pain of lost love. Within seconds she was in her car, air conditioning on full blast, hoping to cool herself down. That was why she didn’t get close to people. People you loved died, leaving a void that could never be replaced. They might go to a better place, but the survivor was left with the tragedy. They were left to remember how selfish the departed had been for loving in the first place.

  <<<<>>>>>

  Quinn leaned against the doorframe and watched Piper practically run to her car. He eyed her with curiosity as the modest two-door roared to life. Then she only sat there, staring aimlessly out the window. Had he done something wrong? Had his father said something to upset her?

  Shaking his head, he continued to keep a keen eye on her. After several minutes and what looked to be many deep breaths, Piper jerked the car into gear and pulled off. He waved, but she didn’t notice. He wanted to call her and ask her—again—if she was, indeed, all right. He didn’t believe she was. Not really.

  Even though he hadn’t seen her eyes as she’d scurried from the house, he knew a haunted stance when he saw one. But what, exactly, was she afraid of? He couldn’t imagine her being afraid of death. She was a funeral director. She saw death every day. Piper, of all people, should be able to cope with it. Understand it. Embrace it. But that didn’t look like the case at all.