Page 36 of Now to Forever (Life on the Ledge Duet #2)

Twenty-Four

“We gotta redo this whole thing, miss,” the man says with a Hispanic accent. Pedro, according to the name embroidered on his shirt. “Wiring’s shot. What isn’t is out of code.” He shrugs, like no big deal.

I blow out my breath, check my watch, and look around the disaster of a house. “The whole house? How much?”

He shrugs. “We bill after. Policy.”

A text comes through from Wanda. Body ain’t gonna burn itself, honey.

I respond with a short on my way.

“Fine,” I snap. “How long?”

Another shrug. “Couple days. Maybe less. Maybe more.”

Vince specifically said everything needed to be brought up to code for optimum resale; I don’t have a choice. It doesn’t stop me from imagining Pedro in a cremation box sliding into the retort with a gag in his mouth .

“Whatever.” I huff. “I have to go; I’ll be back this afternoon.”

He shrugs. Again.

I hustle out of the house; Ford and Wren are in the driveway, stopping me halfway to the Bronco.

“Hey,” I say, rushed. Ford’s in athletic pants and a T-shirt; Wren’s wearing yoga pants and a long-sleeve shirt.

I eye her arms; she rolls her eyes. I throw my purse into the back seat.

“What are y’all doing here? In the middle of a Friday morning? ”

“Wren didn’t have school today and I took the day off. We wanted to see if you were free. Go for a hike.”

“Another date so soon, Officer?” I bat my eyelashes.

“I’m standing right here,” Wren announces.

Ford wraps an arm around her in an obnoxious hug.

“And I was just about to hump his leg.” Wren gags. “But I have work . . . actually, you should come.”

Their that’s weird expressions are identical. I laugh. “Get in. It’ll be fun.” When they hesitate, I bark, “Now!”

It’s Dondi’s turn to pick the music, so naturally Bob Marley is singing “Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright” over the speakers as we stand around the man in the cardboard casket.

He’s in a suit—one that I bought from the thrift store—and looks just as lively as everyone else Wanda works on.

In his fifties, he was unclaimed in the morgue .

“His name is Leonard,” I announce as we look down at him. “And we’re going to tell our favorite story about him.”

“I don’t know this guy!” Ford says, like I’m ridiculous.

I shoot him a look. “For those of you that don’t know”—I pause for emphasis—“when someone doesn’t have family, we speak as though we were his family. Or friends. And tell a happy story he might have had.”

“The Dondinator will start us off,” Dondi says with a smile that showcases the gap in his teeth.

“Leo, that one time we went snowboarding you shredded it in the snow. Totally epic.” Dondi snaps his fingers as if to emphasize the epicness.

“And the face-plant at the end—you were a legend in the powder, my man. Black diamonds. All. Day. Long.”

Wren looks at me like she might laugh but manages to keep herself in check.

“Lenny, honey,” Wanda starts. “When you showed up at Easter that one time with my sister—in front of her husband—you were the real star of the show. And you made the best collard greens and cornbread I’d ever had.

” She pauses, considers, then adds, “And I won $500 on that scratch-off you gave me. Changed my life.”

“Len,” I say, smoothing my Bob Marley T-shirt.

“You had a huge di—” Wren digs her elbow into me.

“—vidend portfolio,” I recover with a too-sweet smile.

“Which is why you could afford to bring the Rastafarian culture to the Blue Ridge Mountains. The way you blasted reggae out of the speakers of your Mercedes and spoke with the best accent—” We all look at Leonard, the whitest man alive, and know that it is highly unlikely he had this accent.

“You taught us never to judge a book by its cover. Because sometimes, the most unexpected of people are, in fact, Jamaican.”

Ford’s eyes meet mine and they’re filled with amusement.

He clears his throat. “Leonard, in the time I’ve been back in Ledger, I never arrested you.

” He looks at us, like he’s finished, and I give him a look that says the hell you are .

“Right.” He clears his throat again. “And also, you were always volunteering at the church, serving soup to those in need on Sundays.” I nod in approval, then he adds, “And you told me Scotty Armstrong wanted to be my girlfriend.”

Everyone laughs except me. “Wren.”

“Uhh, well, this is awkward since my dad left out the fact you were his brother, but, Uncle Leo, you were definitely the better looking of the brothers and there’s never not a day I don’t wish I had your looks instead of his.

” Ford pokes her in the ribs in mock offense.

“But in all seriousness, we’ll miss you.

The world was a better place with you here, and we’ll all notice you’re gone every single day.

You had a friendly smile, and those around you noticed it.

You made every room you were in feel like a party.

We noticed every good thing about you.” She looks up at me, like she’s seeking approval, and I nod, taking her hand in mine with a squeeze.

Ford watches the whole exchange, admiration flickering across his face.

“Now,” I say, “let’s send him off to whatever comes next. Wanda.”

Wanda pushes the button to open the retort door, rolls him inside, then presses the buttons to close the door and start the cremation.

When the loud whir of the machine starts, Dondi turns up the music, beats of the islands bouncing around the sterile room, breaking up the somber reality of a life gone.

“You do this with everyone?” Ford asks, next to me as we watch Dondi show Wren some kind of dance move she laughs at.

I look at him. “I do.”

He hooks a pinky around mine, leaning in close. “You’re kind of amazing, Scotty Armstrong.”

I look at him; he means it. It consumes me with every breath and heartbeat and swallow and blink. I move my mouth to his ear. “I’m glad you think so because I’m trying to get in your pants.”

Mouth against my cheek, he chuckles. “I’ll tell you something real,” he says. “You don’t see how good you are.”

And then, with a man burning to ashes who didn’t have a soul in the world to claim him as theirs, the room feels like a celebration of life as Ford wraps his arms around me and dances to the beat of Bob Marley.