It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,40
I heard you correctly.”
Gram let her chin fall to her chest and she sighed guiltily. “Daisy, I don’t want you to pitch a hissy. I’m mighty aware that what I’m telling you makes me sound like I don’t know whether to check my ass or scratch my watch, but you need to know… Baby, you’re a Death Counselor. You come from a long line of Death Counselors. I was sure the gift had skipped you—prayed to God every night on my knees that it would skip you. But clearly, it didn’t,” she said in a whisper. “I was certain another line would take over. I was wrong.”
“I’m not insane?” I demanded, wondering why she hadn’t ever mentioned this little family quirk before now. Not that I would have believed her, but it would have been nice to know. “I’ve been seeing dead people for over a month and now you feel like explaining?”
“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me you were hanging out with ghosts,” Gram pointed out logically.
“Wasn’t exactly something I thought I could share,” I shot back, wanting to shake her. My eyes filled with tears—tears of relief that I wasn’t losing my mind and tears of anger at Gram for not filling me in.
“Oh, Daisy girl,” Gram said, holding her thin arms out to me. “Come to Gram, baby.”
“I can’t,” I whispered, wiping my nose with my sleeve and feeling like a child. “Not yet.”
Gram nodded and pressed the off button on her TV remote. She never turned off the TV. Never. Shit had gotten serious fast. Was there another shoe about to drop? I was sure if I learned much more today, my brain would pop.
“I’m sorry,” Gram said, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Me and your mamma both thought it had passed you. I feel so dumb right now I could throw myself on the dang ground and miss.”
“Why would you think it passed me?” I asked, walking over to the door and locking it. As liberating as it felt to figure out I wasn’t batshit crazy, I didn’t need anyone walking in on this particular conversation.
Especially Gideon if he was somewhere in the building. That man had enough issues without hearing this. Plus, I needed my job. The conversation I was having didn’t bode well for gainful employment if word got out.
“Your mamma saw the dead by the time she was four,” Gram said, sounding far older than she was. Her skin paled and her voice cracked. “You could have buttered my butt and called me a biscuit, I was so surprised. I didn’t see ’em till I was ten. It usually manifests itself early.”
“I’m forty,” I said, sitting back down. I didn’t trust my legs not to give out. And I was a little sore from my early morning belly crawling. “Why is it showing up now?”
“Not sure,” Gram said, not making eye contact.
She was a horrible liar. I was too.
“I call bullshit,” I said flatly. “And why are you telling me this? How did you know I was seeing the dead?”
“The Grim Reaper stopped by,” she explained.
Closing my eyes, I tried not to laugh. Gram was losing it. The only person she’d seen today as far as I knew was Heather. Gram didn’t have many visitors. Heather was not the Grim Reaper. The Grim freaking Reaper didn’t exist.
“Right,” I said with an eye roll. “The Grim Reaper with a big ol’ scythe and a long black hooded cape came to the nursing home to tell you that your granddaughter was hanging out with decomposing squatters?” Of course, my description came from horror movies since the Grim Reaper didn’t exist. Score one for my horror movie habit.
“Squatters?” Gram asked, ignoring my sarcastic tone and most of everything I’d just said. “They’re at your house?”
Were they not supposed to be? Had I done something wrong? “They are,” I replied, watching my beloved Gram like a hawk. Her lips might say one thing, but her body language and eyes gave the truth away. I’d kicked her butt in poker my whole life. “Why?”
“How many?” she asked alarmed.
“At least fifty,” I said, starting to feel alarmed myself. “Maybe more. They’re kind of hard to count.”
“Don’t touch ’em,” she said sharply.
“Is that a joke?” I asked warily.
“Did it sound like one?”
“Umm… no. But it’s too late for that,” I told her as my stomach began to churn. “I’ve been gluing body parts back on for a couple of them.”