The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (good short books .TXT) 📕

say about the costume day?” Cheryl rolled her eyes, went into her office, and shut the door without another word.

Tessa grinned, feeling like she’d won that round of good-natured sparring. But she couldn’t help but think her mom might have it even worse than she did in the mean old boss category. April seemed like a real treat.

Tessa pushed aside the thought and headed to her cramped office, already dreaming of sitting by the pool with her friend Gloria in Florida, skipping as many presentations as possible to sip daiquiris and soak up the sun.

Not a vacation, my backside.

Chapter 4

“I HATE LAYOVERS. DON’T you?” Tessa slumped into the uncomfortable airport chair. “So boring. I wish the agency would have sprung for a direct flight.” Cheryl had claimed it was agency policy to find the cheapest flights. But what kind of supernatural agency pinches pennies, really? Tessa was sure the policy was her mother’s and her mother’s alone.

She checked her watch. “I mean, it would’ve been nice to explore Chicago or something but there’s not enough time. This layover is just long enough to be annoying but not long enough to be any fun.”

Gloria’s perfect mauve-covered lips twitched upward. “I know it’s not technically a vacation. But I don’t care if there’s a layover—I’m just glad to be out of the office.” Her grin got wider. “I’m content sitting here thinking about how Cheryl’s probably going to have to fill in on a job or two while we’re gone. There’s bound to be enough business that Jake and Cathy can’t handle it alone. How long do you think it’s been since your mom reaped someone?”

Tessa shook her head. It was something she hadn’t given much thought to. This used to be her mother’s full-time job. She shuddered at the thought of her mother escorting someone to the other side. Or would ushering be a better word? Cheryl was so uptight and schedule-oriented—she’d probably clap her hands and say, “Chop-chop!”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I guess you’re right. Any time out of this office is like a vacation, huh?”

“How about we spice it up?” Gloria stood, grabbed her suitcase’s handle, and started walking across the terminal.

“Okay...” Tessa hurried to grab her own luggage—they’d both just brought carry-on-sized bags to avoid the possibility of a lost suitcase putting a serious damper on their trip—and power-walked after her co-worker. “Where are we going?’

Over her shoulder, Gloria said, “The bar, of course. There are Tiki drinks with our names on them.”

Tessa had never been big on drinking on airplanes. She liked to be clear-headed in case something went wrong and she needed to think fast. But she had to admit that having a drink during the layover sounded like more fun than passing the time in a hard, plastic chair staring at the runway.

Gloria paused in the doorway of an Irish pub and waited for Tessa to catch up. “I guess the Tiki will have to wait for Miami. It looks like everybody’s in here.”

“Everybody?”

“The other reapers from Chicago on north. Look.” She nodded toward the dimly lit bar.

Following her friend’s gaze, Tessa realized Gloria was right. Many of the folks sitting at the bar or gathered at round tables gave off reaper vibes.

Gloria made her way to a tall table near a window overlooking the concourse, where people bustled along in both directions, hurrying to make connecting flights. Tessa climbed into the chair and checked the laminated card advertising drink specials. When a waiter wearing a pilot’s hat with a shamrock affixed to the front came by, both reapers ordered cosmos.

Gloria leaned over the tiny table. “See that guy? That’s Art. He’s out of Minneapolis. Has a reputation for giving each of his clients’ last trips a bit of an artistic flare.”

“What does that mean?” Tessa studied the man Gloria had indicated. He stood at the bar holding a glass of Guinness and telling a story to several other reapers, who listened with rapt attention before bursting out into guffaws. Art had hawkish features, but they didn’t give him a predatory air. Instead, Tessa felt drawn to him.

Gloria laid her hands flat on the table. “Okay, so here’s an example. There was a guy Art was scheduled to reap who liked burlesque shows. So, Art dressed up as the guy’s favorite character—I don’t know who—I just know it involved a bright orange cape and a rhinestone-studded mask. Anyway, Ari wore the outfit when he showed up to cross the guy over. He was so over-the-moon he barely noticed he was dying.” Gloria chuckled.

And she laughed even louder at the look on Tessa’s face as she pictured Art in drag.

“Art likes to make a production of things. Oh, and that’s Shirley. I’m surprised she hasn’t retired yet. She’s been reaping since my grandmother was in grade school. She’s from British Columbia.”

The woman Gloria motioned toward was playing darts in the back corner with another reaper. Her black and silver hair was arranged in one heavy braid that reached her waist. She clapped as her dart made it into the bullseye. Then she celebrated with a chug of something in a martini glass.

Gloria’s eyes scanned the crowd as the waiter dropped off their drinks. “And that’s Bubba—he’s from Seattle. He’s a hoot at parties. I bet he’ll be the guy dancing on the pool deck at the hotel.”

Tessa wondered how she’d remember all these reapers’ names. Still, it was fun to hear the stories. Gloria seemed to know everyone.

“That’s Lydia and Cynthia. They always meet up at conferences and room together. Lydia’s from Detroit and Cynthia’s out of Chicago.” Gloria frowned a little, setting down her pink drink. “Hmm . . . Cynthia doesn’t look that good, does she?”

Tessa tried to check out the woman Gloria indicated without being obvious about it. Cynthia was slumped forward, elbows arranged on the table so her arms formed a protective circle around a margarita. Lydia had a hand on Cynthia’s arm and wore a