It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,41

Parton’s plastic surgeon did you just say?” Gram asked with a shocked expression.

“Gluing body parts back on… with superglue,” I repeated weakly. “An old woman’s hand and Sam’s jaw. I was shocked that it worked—tendons and all.”

“Sam?” Gram shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “How in tarnation do you know their names?”

“He told me… kind of,” I said, feeling the need to cry or freak out. “He kept pointing at the ham and hissing. I eventually worked it out. Ssssssss plus ham equals Sam. My dog, Donna…”

“You have a dog?” she asked, now seriously confused.

“The girls got me a puppy for my birthday,” I told her. “She understands the dead.”

Gram narrowed her eyes and looked at me like I was as crazy as I’d felt for the last month. It was the same look she’d given me when I’d been in high school and she thought my skirts were too short. The phrase “your skirt is so short I can see your religion” was stuck in my brain for eternity. To this day I was hyper-aware of my skirt length.

“Why are you looking at me like that, old lady?” I asked, using my regular term of endearment for my Gram. However, it sounded kind of rude right now. Part of me wanted to apologize immediately. The other part didn’t care if I pissed her off. “Why is it hard to believe a dog can understand the dead when we’re discussing the fact that I’m basically running a morgue for uninvited ghosts?”

“Daisy,” Gram said, running her hands through her gray hair and sighing. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I was still mad. If I didn’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all. Gram had taught me that one too.

“Your job is to help them find a way to move on, not to become friendly with ’em. That’s a very bad idea. They’re as lost as last year’s Easter eggs. Most are still here because something was left undone,” she said, holding out her frail hand to me. “Some people move on without help. Some don’t. That’s where a Death Counselor comes in.”

Gram was my everything even though I wanted to strangle her right now. Crossing the room and taking her hand in mine, I sat on the edge of her bed.

“I already helped Sam,” I admitted. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her how attached I’d gotten to him. She sounded adamant about not getting involved. However, I didn’t have it in me not to care. It was a strength and a fault of mine. “At least I didn’t get arrested.”

Gram’s brows wrinkled and her lips compressed and flattened to a straight line. “Arrested? What in tarnation did you do for this Sam fella?”

“His wife’s glasses were in the cookie jar,” I told her, feeling my tears well up again. “Her wedding ring was on the chain. Her mind is going and Sam used to search for her glasses each evening and leave them by the teapot. And then he died,” I said, letting my tears fall. It was still fresh in my mind. “He wanted to find her glasses one last time. So, I broke into his house and put the glasses by the teapot.”

Gram was speechless… and shocked.

“Daisy, that’s not usually how it works,” she croaked. “How on earth did you learn all of this?”

“Learn all of what?” I asked, feeling stressed and still upset with her and with myself at the same time.

“All of the information that this Sam fella wanted to tell you? Do you have a Ouija board?” Gram asked.

“Is that how you did it?” I asked, kind of proud of myself that I’d already thought of that.

“Yes,” Gram snapped, looking worried. “However, I never once got that much information. Ever. Most of the dead don’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

“I disagree,” I said without thinking. Although, she might be correct. I’d only really dealt with two. The handless woman didn’t count. I didn’t know anything about her. Sam… Sam was different.

“How’d you do it?” Gram asked again.

“I hugged Sam,” I whispered.

Gram looked like she was going to pass out. “What did I just tell you about touching ’em?” she shouted, pulling on her hair in agitation. “You’re acting like you’ve only got one oar in the water, Daisy.”

“Well, since you never told me what I was or who I am, how was I supposed to know not to touch