“That’s fine.”
I was getting some tummy growlies and wanted to grab a biteto eat anyway. I paid for the gifts, and tucked my receipt into my purse, and held the little bags in my hand.
Exiting Whimsical Whimsand away from Mariah Carey’s only holiday hit, I spotted Jesse walking across the street.
“Hey!” I waved.
He crossed overthe street after a sedan passed, a smile leaking slowly off the edges of his pinkish pout. “Doing some shopping?”
“Well, you know. Keeping the locals in business.”I lifted the couple of bags. It wasn’t much really. I’d spent most of my money so far buying groceries.
“That’s kind of you, and I’m sure they all appreciate it. Where you heading next?”
I looked up anddown the street. “Peter’s Pitas. Lenny went on and on about them.”
The older man had a wrapped order on his desk and even through the wax paper, the hint of spices and cooked meat was mouth-watering. I didn’t need his accolades, but itsure helped in securing a place to have lunch.
“They’re just up here, off the drag.”
“Do you have time to join me?”
He noddedand checked his watch. “I’ll need to be back in the office at one for a quick order arrival, but yeah, I have time.”
“Sounds fun.”
He was dressed pretty casually in jeans and a sweater, so not likely an office job. Maybe he worked at one of the little indie businesses? Or helped fill shelves at the grocer, although I would’ve seen him this morning.
Jesse stood a little straighter. “Not really. I have a shipment of urns coming in.”
My face fell.
“I’m a mortician.”
Chapter Five
Jesse being a mortician was not the job I expected him to have. Not at all.
“It’s okay, I get that a lot.” An impassive expression settled over his face.
“What’s that?”
He circled my headwith a long finger. “That blank stare.”
Ishook away the look and tossed my gaze to the sidewalk which was decorated with a fresh covering of snow smooshed into the sidewalk. “Sorry.”
“What’s to be sorry for? Sure,it doesn’t have the glamour and prestige of a doctor or a lawyer…”
“Or an accountant.” I winked, understanding exactly what he meant. “I get it. No one grows up saying they’ll be an accountant or a mortician.”
“It’s a dead-end job, I agree.” He chuckled.
I laughed and nearly snortedfrom his bad joke. “That’s funny.”
“Well, if I don’t keep it light, then the dreariness will bury me.”
“Oh stop.” I grabbed his arm to balance myself.
He pulled me out of the way of a passerby. “Afternoon, Mrs. Thornsbird.”He tipped his head in the direction of the older lady. “Merry Christmas.”