Dearly Departed Read Free Page B

neighborhood.”
    Any normal mother, Amy thought again, would be embarrassed to be caught in a lie mere moments after telling it. Not Fanny.
    â€œIn the neighborhood?” she mocked and pointed a fat, accusing finger. “It’s not bad enough that he makes me fib. No, he has to rub it in my face. If that’s not dishonest, I don’t know what is.” And with that, she pivoted and marched off to the back office, slamming the door behind her.
    Amy watched her go, then sighed. “I have no control over her. None.”
    â€œWhy doesn’t Fanny like me?” Peter asked. Tentatively, he sat down in a client chair, all the while keeping one eye on the back office door.
    â€œTake it as a compliment.” Amy pushed over her mother’s untouched cup of Earl Grey. Peter picked it up without comment and sipped. Peter Borg was everything a normal mother could want for her daughter: handsome, hard-working and well-to-do. He was also devoted to Amy, although she’d given him very little encouragement. They had dated once or twice and been on a Caribbean tour together, for business. But there had never been that spark. For Fanny—and to a slightly lesser extent for Amy—it was all about the spark.
    â€œI hope you’re not going to do another mystery rally,” he said, lowering the half-empty cup. “No matter how popular . . . it won’t be good for your reputation.”
    â€œYou’re right.” Amy hadn’t thought of that angle. She knew only that she couldn’t go through with it. “I know you never approved, but . . . it’s not happening.”
    â€œGood.” Peter scooted his chair forward, closer, planted his elbows on her desk, and steepled his long, thin fingers. “Because I have another proposal. Less work, more interesting, and probably just as lucrative.”
    And with that, Peter proceeded to outline his meeting two weeks ago with Paisley MacGregor.
    Amy listened, her interest growing with each odd little revelation. She vaguely recalled the large, informal woman in her formal whites serving lunch one day, when Peter had persuaded Amy to come over. She’d known Peter was just showing off the maid. MacGregor had known. Everyone had known, and everyone had played along.
    â€œAnd you fired her?” That was a detail Amy had never heard.
    â€œI made up some excuse,” Peter said. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? She got sick and quit working. Then she died.”
    â€œOh.” Amy was taken aback. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œOops. I should have said that at the beginning. She died three days ago.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Amy repeated, although it wasn’t a surprise, given the story that he’d just told. “Did she have family?”
    â€œMacGregor?” It was almost a snort. “No. Just her beloved employers. So, what do you say? I checked with her lawyers. I’m also a guest, so that gives me the right to involve another tour operator. You’ll be paid well and get an around-the-world trip.”
    Amy hesitated. “I don’t know.”
    â€œI’ll split my commissions with you. Fifty-fifty.”
    â€œWhy would you do that?”
    â€œI need the help. You’ve worked with the rich and fussy. And I need someone who isn’t attached to MacGregor. Even now it’s a handful, contacting everyone and getting them on board. You’ve always wanted to see the Taj Mahal. Right?”
    She must have mentioned this dream to him at some point. “You’re spreading ashes at the Taj Mahal?”
    â€œWe’ll be throwing MacGregor right into it.”
    â€œEddie and I always wanted to go.”
    â€œThe Taj Mahal at dawn. Something you’ll never forget. And we’re going to be flying private.” There was a sharp gleam in his eyes.
    â€œI’ve never flown private,” Amy had to admit.
    â€œA reconfigured seven-fifty-seven.