“What time is it?” Larissa cried now, wiping at her smeared mascara.
Ginny checked the clock on here bedside table, noticing Roksana was nowhere to be seen. Where had she hidden herself? “It’s 6:49.”
“I’ve slept through my entire shift!” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “And I had the strangest dream. A woman was in my room and…” She cupped the air over her breasts. “She had on a leather bustier with studs.”
Ginny had checked on Larissa several times throughout the day and she hadn’t stirred once, even when Ginny laid a cold compress on the unfortunate lump at her temple. The smell of alcohol on her breath hinted at the possibility Larissa would have slept through her shift even if Roksana hadn’t conked her on the head. “That was a crazy dream,” Ginny said. “After all, it’s much too brisk outside for a bustier.”
“There was a time when I’d have worn one in a snowstorm—and did,” Larissa said wistfully. “Did I miss anything while I was sleeping? Any new arrivals?”
“Not today.”
Her stepmother stared off into the distance. “Here I am, hoping people die so we can keep the lights on. It’s ghastly.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Have you given any more thought to selling the business at a lower price?”
Ginny felt a stab of guilt. There was part of her that wanted to put her father’s legacy on the market and take far less than he’d paid for it—thank you, Q train. Just so Larissa would be free. But every time the real estate agent called to ask if they’d consider relisting the home at a lower price, Ginny balked. These walls were the only witnesses besides her to the memories she’d made with her father. If she sold the home and moved, she’d be the only one with those memories. With every change in her life, they faded a little more, like continually washed black jeans.
Also. Was it wrong of her to enjoy her job?
She took responsibility and pride in caring for the dearly departed. Any lingering eeriness she’d experienced as a child learning at her father’s side had long since passed. Now the deceased were just people who’d lived, loved, cried, laughed, spilled sodas, rode roller coasters, told jokes, got mosquito bites. They were to be handled with love, and she wasn’t confident in many of her abilities, but no one could treat them with more respect or do a better job. This was her profession and she wanted to keep it.
Unfortunately, that meant Larissa was good and trapped. Unless Ginny could buy out her half of the business—and that wasn’t happening any time soon.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t thought more about selling,” Ginny finally responded. “This place is really all I know—”
“But you could change that! Maybe get out of Coney Island and start somewhere fresh?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny hedged, not wanting to give an outright no to a friendly suggestion. “If the job is wearing you out, Larissa, maybe you’d like to take some time off? Clear your head—”
“No, no. No. It’s fine. I’ll be on time tomorrow.” She clutched the sides of her robe, bunching the material at the hollow of her neck. “Besides, who would I visit? My parents in Florida? Those retirees in their complex scatter when they see me coming now. They think I’ve brought death along in my suitcase.” She was getting worked up. “I don’t know how you’ve done this your whole life.”
Ginny shrugged and reached for the pearl earrings on her dresser, putting them on without looking in the mirror. “It’s all I know,” she said simply, a pang catching her in the sternum. “People don’t want to need us. No one’s ever ready. But deep down, they’re comforted knowing we’re here.”
“You sound like your father.”
“Thank you.”
Larissa’s smile was tight. “Well. Since I already missed my shift, might as well rest up for the next one.” Her stepmother yawned loudly and turned, stretching her arms above her head as she padded down the hallway. “Please give some more thought to unloading this place. The greater good and all that. G’night.”
A second later, Ginny heard Larissa’s door close, followed by the distinct sound of a bottle cap being twisted off and liquor filling a glass. Ginny idled for a while in the dark corridor, considering her stepmother’s repeated requests. Was she being selfish keeping P. Lynn up and running? This was her home. The only one she’d ever known. Where would she go without it? What would she do?
The barest scraping sound turned Ginny around with a gasp.
Jonas stood just inside her window.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jonas looked different tonight.
And night had fallen while she’d been speaking to Larissa, but the sun must have only just gone down. Had he been waiting for the moment it sank behind the horizon to come see her?