Cypress kissed his cheek, whispering, “Good night, Tom.”
Tom smiled, mumbling sleepily, “Night.” His smile grew as Cypress’s arm curled around him, and he was back asleep in moments.
When Tom woke up the next morning, it was only him and Mister Doodles. It was a quarter after eight, and he was pleased to have slept in so late. He rolled around and dozed back off until his bladder demanded he get up.
He saw he had a text waiting for him from Cypress, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he read it:
The house is yours. Hope you slept well.
Thank you, he texted back.Slept awesome. Hope you did, too.
Tom used the bathroom, skipped shaving, took Mister Doodles out, and then he tried to decide what he was going to do with himself today. He hadn’t had this much time off in years, and he had no clue what to do.
He made breakfast for Mister Doodles and was pleased to find a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him. He made himself a cup and headed into the living room.
Sitting down in front of the television seemed to be a good start to this impromptu vacation, but he couldn’t figure out how to work the damn remote. He gave up and sent a pleading text to Cypress.
Sorry to bug you, but can you please tell me how to work your TV?
He didn’t get a response right away and decided to scroll through a few neglected social media apps. When his phone suddenly rang, his initial hope was that it was Cypress calling him.
It was the funeral home.
Heart sinking, Tom sighed and answered it. “Hello?”
“Hey, Tom,” Aaron’s cheerful voice greeted him. “Sorry to bother you on your very first fancy day off, but uh, is there any possible way you could come in today?”
“Come on,” Tom scoffed. “I’m on vacation.”
“Recovering from your surgery, I know,” Aaron said very purposefully, no doubt for Mr. Crosby’s benefit, “but there’s a problem with Mr. Lundy.”
“What kinda problem?”
“While the guys were getting him ready, his makeup maybe might have gotten a little tiny bit squished.”
“Oh, fuck.” Tom sat up, immediately in a panic. “When is his viewing?”
“Not until tomorrow,” Aaron replied quickly. “If you could possibly stop by for a little bit to fix him up, I would so appreciate it. Gerald tried to fix it, and he really just made it worse—”
“Oh, God.” Tom could picture Gerald’s clumsy fingers screwing around all in his waxwork, and he wanted to scream. “Yeah, look, I’ll be there. I don’t know when.”
“No problem. Get here whenever you can.” Aaron paused. “And uh, did you ever bring back that watch? Gerald was talking to that agent guy and told me not to worry about it—”
“Oh, it’s fine. Yup. Everything’s fine. See you soon.” Tom hung up, grimacing miserably.
So much for enjoying his time away from work.
He couldn’t bring himself to tell Aaron what was going on with the watch and the break-in at his house, deciding it was better to keep him out of it. After still not getting a text back from Cypress, he decided to call.
Tom knew he was supposed to stay here, but this had to qualify as an emergency.
“Hey, sorry,” Cypress greeted him. “I saw your text, just got caught up with deliveries. Did you know Sunnyside Nursing makes you bring flower deliveries to the back of the damn building?”
Tom laughed, replying, “Yeah? That’s where we pick up bodies from, too.”
“By the dumpsters?”
“Look, if you wanna know where bodies get brought out of hospitals and nursing homes, the best bet is to find where the trash is taken out.”
