“Cass!” Des called. He was holding the wireless handset to the bar’s landline. “You’ve got a call.”
Who in the hell would call me at work? The two most important people in her life were right there at the bar.
Cass let go of the bottle and held a finger up to Isa. “Hold that thought.” She took a moment to rinse and dry her hands then met Des by the door to the back space, where the office, bathroom, and kitchen were tucked away. “Who is it?”
Des shrugged. “Didn’t ask, but you might want to take it in the office, where it’s quiet.”
She took the phone from him, put it to her ear, and pushed through the door. When Anna, their cook, looked up from the griddle, Cass lifted her chin then took a left and headed to the office. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a man said. “Is this Cassandra Alcmene Ambrose?”
A tendril of trepidation unfurled, and she stilled, her hand still poised above the knob of the office door. A low, indistinct rustle of feathers filled the hall. Her gaze instinctively darted around, even though she knew deep down, there would be no owl. It was a warning, one she hadn’t heeded earlier. “This is Cassandra Alcmene.”
There was the sound of a throat clearing. “My apologies, Ms. Alcmene. This is Eric Swanson.” He gave his name as if she should know it.
“Who?” Cass opened the office door and stepped inside, doing her best to ignore the nauseating pitch of her stomach. She stood between Des’s prized hefty desk and the small sofa that Isa tended to sprawl on. Normally, the familiar space would bring her comfort, but at the moment, it felt foreign.
“Eric Swanson,” he repeated in the same alarmingly formal tone. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I was unable to reach you on your cell.”
Her gaze darted to her bag, which sat on the floor beside the sofa. Her cell was in it, but she didn’t grab it. Instead, she braced herself. Whatever was coming was going to be bad.
“I’m at work.” It was a stupid comment, since he was talking to her on Wonderland’s landline, but a hint of unreality was wrapping clammy arms around her.
“Right.” There was a distinct pause. When he spoke again, it was clear he was trying to tread carefully. “Your parents asked me to inform you that your grandmother has passed away.”
The words landed like a sucker punch and left her sucking in air so fast she choked. “What?” An eerie shriek echoed through her mind, nearly drowning out his voice.
“Your grandmother, Iris—she passed away.”
“No, there must be some kind of mistake.” Her sharp denial couldn’t deflect the awful truth, and the reality of it sank deep.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Amb… Alcmene.” And he genuinely sounded it. “I know this is unexpected.”
Unexpected? No, it’s… wrong, so wrong. She stumbled back and sank onto the sofa, her grip on the handset tightening as she fought the urge to babble denials. Her voice squeezed past her tight throat, scraping it raw. “What happened?”
“She passed in her sleep last night.” Fortunately, he kept going, obviously familiar with what questions would come next. “She’d come down with some sort of bug earlier in the week but appeared to be getting better. She joined your parents for dinner last night, confirmed she was feeling better, and then went up to rest. This morning, when she didn’t join your parents for breakfast, your father went up and found her.”
He continued speaking, his explanation joining the wall of white noise filling her head. Hot and cold chills raced over Cass, leaving her off-kilter. A pain in her scalp had her realizing she was pulling at her hair, a mindless outlet for the storm of sorrow swallowing her whole. Her yaya was supposed to live forever. Seventy was too damn young. Cass fought to find her balance, gaining a delicate grip on the here and now. Her brain was slow to put the words together, but when it did, she went back to what Eric Swanson had said earlier.
“Wait. You said, ‘this morning’?” she said, cutting him off midsentence.
There was a pause followed by a soft clearing of his throat. “Unfortunately, your parents were unable to call earlier as they were dealing with other things.” Discomfort marred his urbane tone.
A familiar hollow ache pierced the grief. Unable or unwilling?
It was a useless question since the answer never changed. She squeezed her eyes closed, pulled the phone from her ear, and pressed it against her forehead, fighting back a sob of pained anger as old resentments rose. The emotional overload triggered a creeping numbness, and she pulled the lack of feeling closer, huddling in its dubious protection as she drew in a breath.
When she opened her eyes, she put the phone back to her ear and managed a faint “Of course they were.”
His pause, this time, was longer, and when he spoke again, it was with a curious gentleness. “Ms. Ambrose.” He stopped then continued before she could correct him. “Cassandra, your grandmother loved you very much.”
His compassion was enough to trigger tears. The pressure rose, demanding release, but she refused to blink and set the tears free. “I know.” Taking another ragged breath, she stared at the desk in front of her. “Can I ask, where is she now?”
“She’s staying with Desert Willow Funeral Home here in Vegas, until her service on Saturday morning. She’ll be laid to rest next to your grandfather.”
A man Cass didn’t remember but whom her grandmother had remained utterly devoted to in the twenty-odd years since she’d lost him. At least now they’ll be together.
“The reading of her will is to follow the service, and your presence, of course, is requested. Your parents have asked that the reading take place in the privacy of their home. If you prefer, I can send you the details for the service.”
