Page 21 of Mourner for Hire

SEVENTEEN

DOMINIC

“Dominic, it’s so good to see you out and about!” Marylou remarks as I pour her a pale ale from the draft in the beer garden.

“It’s the annual Apple Festival, Marylou. You know I wouldn’t miss it,” I say with a smile, sliding the mug over the plywood bar top.

She smiles at me with her bright red lips that match the red headband in her gray hair. “Your mama would be proud. You know she loved this festival.”

“I do know that.” I nod and fill another glass for her husband, Bernie. He’s all overalls and flannels.

“Now, Marylou, don’t go fishing to make the boy cry now,” he says.

“I’m not fishing. I’m just saying she’d be proud. She loved her boy, even if?—”

Bernie hushes her, and her cheeks flame.

I clear my throat loudly and slide Bernie the beer. “It’s all right. You know how Mom was always plotting.”

Marylou hoots out a laugh. “She sure did! You remember when she dated the owner of Al’s Market just to tell him she preferred The Mix Salsa to Pace and he switched out the entire store just so she could always have access to the salsa she liked. ”

“Or when she ran for city council just to steal votes from Bob so her friend, Angelica, would win,” Bernie adds.

I sort of laugh, but it’s more of a breath through my nose. “She was weird that way.”

“The best kind of weird.”

“She loved life like no one I knew,” Marylou says and smiles softly. She reaches out and squeezes my arm, tears in her eyes.

“She did,” I respond, though I’m halfway annoyed.

That’s when I see her walking into the festival in a rust-colored sundress and a smile on her face that makes me feel crazy.

If she’s just here to work and fulfill my mother’s wishes, then why is she here ? This is a town tradition. This is for port locals. This is not for the devil passing through in a sundress.

“Oh, have you met your mom’s friend yet?” Marylou beams. “She has roots here, but I suppose she doesn’t consider herself from here. Gosh, that was so long ago. Wasn’t it, Bernie? Her mama was sweet as pie, but that daddy of hers was a dirty old bastard—stole her away from this life.”

“Friends come and go. They weren’t all that important,” I say shortly, though the wheels in my mind are turning incessantly.

Her brow twists, and her cherry-colored lips purse. “Oh, honey, you can tell yourself that. But don’t you let it bother you like this. She’s good people. I think having someone here to physically sort through the grief will be helpful.”

My jaw tightens at her babbling. I do my best not to respond, but Marylou doesn’t stop talking until she’s finished, no matter what kind of social cues she receives.

“You know no one tells you that: that the stuff our loved ones leave behind can feel like they’ve died all over again with each piece of clothing you sort through.

” She hums thoughtfully, and I nearly crack a tooth the longer she speaks, I’m clenching so hard.

“It might be nice to have someone more unattached help you. Think about it. She’s a professional. ”

“She’s not a professional. She’s a fraud,” I snap.

“Oh, Dominic… ”

“Marylou, respectfully, put yourself in my shoes.”

She glances at her husband. The empathy in both their eyes feels so misplaced.

I don’t want pity. I want everyone else to see how the fact that my mom left all this money and her cottage to some random person she knew once twenty years ago is certifiably insane.

When Mom told me about it, she said she didn’t want me to worry.

I trusted that notion, but now that it’s in my face, I am filled with worries.

“We love you, Dominic. This whole town does.” Her tone is soothing, and she stares at me a beat before patting my hand. “Well, I’ve got to get back to the bakery. The apple cider donuts don’t sell themselves!”

I watch her and Bernie walk back to their bakery, hand in hand.

I keep my hands busy, letting the anger dissipate in my fingertips as I pour ciders and drinks for everyone.

It doesn’t take much for my attention to continue to be drawn in her direction.

Her smile as she introduces herself to Jenna.

The way she tucks her hair behind her ear as she nods.

The echo of her laugh over rubber duck races and the apple slingshot. She’s infuriating.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Eli’s pompous grin clouds my view of Satan in a sundress. My jaw tightens, embarrassed I didn’t see him coming.

“Shut up, Eli.” I don’t even attempt to deny my lingering glances as I call over to my bar hand. “Hey, Chelsey?”

“Yeah, boss,” she shouts back, sliding two ciders to paying customers.

“You good for a minute?”

“Yeah,” she answers, and I grab a bottle of beer from under the bar.

Fury and fear boom in my chest with each step I take, but I don’t stop.

I’m committed. I watch Connor hold her hand and spin her around.

I see him hand her a beer and whisper something in her ear, and ignore the anger thrumming in my chest. I know where he’s going to take her.

I’ve seen that laugh. That smile on her face is unsuspecting, and all I want to do is ruin her night.

I head to the bobbing for apples booth and smile at Veronica as she helps the next couple sign up to bob. I don’t stop. I make it to the end of the street where the cobbled stones begin to blend under the sand from the beach, and I keep walking.