What he’d thrown away.
And last weekend she’d had to suffer through an unwanted date with Billy Perkins because she’d been so rattled about Jacob and determined to prove he didn’t affect her anymore. The date had been awkward. She hadn’t enjoyed it. But Billy had called her twice already this week, probably wanting to go out again.
All because she’d wanted to prove something to Jacob.
She was so stupid.
What happened to her plan to be cool and composed and completely unconcerned about anything to do with Jacob Worth?
With a sudden flare of nerves, she glanced down at her phone to verify the text she’d received from Martha, who’d cooked and cleaned for old Mr. Worth for longer than Ria had been alive.
Mr. Worth wanted to talk to her about flowers for his funeral. He wanted Ria to come over this afternoon if possible.
She’d worked with people before on their funeral plans, but not when they were as close to dying as Mr. Worth evidently was. This felt weird. Unnatural. She didn’t want to do it and not just because he was Jacob’s grandfather.
But he evidently cared enough about this to summon her from his deathbed, so she’d come immediately.
Maybe Jacob wouldn’t be around.
Having verified for the fourth or fifth time that she was indeed invited, she climbed out of her car and smoothed down her cute little skirt. She was glad she’d dressed up more than usual today. Her black-and-white-striped skirt was quite casual—especially when paired with the sleeveless black top—but it looked a little more professional than the jeans or capris she normally wore.
Plus, if she happened to encounter Jacob, she would look good.
Martha greeted her at the door and brought her upstairs to Mr. Worth’s bedroom. The house seemed otherwise empty, so Ria decided with a sinking sense of disappointment that Jacob wasn’t even there.
She should be relieved. She shouldn’t feel disappointed. As if all the excitement had leaked out of the world.
Mr. Worth had always been a big, tanned, hard-looking man, so Ria paused for a moment when she entered the bedroom, stunned by the change the past six months had made in him. He was way too thin. Way too pale. He still had some thin hair, but it was in wild disarray.
He looked nothing like the man she remembered.
“Hi, Mr. Worth,” she said with a smile, quickly recovering herself when his eyes landed on her. “It’s Ria. Martha said you wanted me to come over.”
“Oh. Yeah. Good. Sit down, girl.” His voice was weaker but just as gruff and abrupt as it used to be.
She used to be so terrified that he’d yell at her. Pulling a chair closer to the bed, she sat down and leaned forward. “How are you doing, sir?”
“Not good. Not good at all. Don’t have much time left.”
“I’m very sorry about that.”
“Are you?” His eyes were hazel just like Jacob’s—shifting between gray and green, depending on the light. “Can’t imagine why. Thought you’d hate the sight of me.”
“Why would I hate the sight of you, Mr. Worth?” Ria was baffled by this strange conversation, and her voice reflected her confusion.
“For what I did to Jacob. But I still think it was right. Boy was too soft. Men need to be men. Can’t be coddled. And look how well he turned out. Did the right thing. I did. It was hard, but it was right.”
Maybe his declining health had affected his mind. Ria had no idea what the context of all this was, but the possibilities were tightening in her stomach and pumping through her veins. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand. What did you do to Jacob?”
The old man stared at her for a long time. Too long. She was holding her breath, waiting to see what he’d say.
“We’re here to talk about my funeral.”
She exhaled in a loud gust, her shoulders slumping just a little. “Of course. I’ll be happy to help you with whatever you have in mind.”
“I don’t want anything too pretty or over-the-top. Don’t let them pretty things up.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “A lot of people don’t like a lot of color or variety in funeral arrangements. We could do something very classy and sober with white flowers and some greenery?”
“I guess.”
“I could show you some examples from arrangements I’ve done before.” She pulled out her phone and found the folder of photos she kept of her work. She picked out a few of the more minimalistic arrangements and showed him.
“This isn’t bad,” he said, indicating one of them, “but I don’t want that many flowers.”
“We could just do some greenery? What about like this?” She pulled up another photo to show him.
“Yes. That’s better. Do something like that. But keep it simple. Don’t want to be gussied up and prettified, even though I’m dead. And don’t let the ladies talk you into anything different.”
Ria wondered what ladies he was talking about. Maybe Martha? Who else would have a claim on his funeral arrangements? “I won’t, sir. You can count on me.”
“Good.” Mr. Worth nodded a few times. “That’s it then. You can go.”
She stood up immediately, rather baffled by the strange conversation and wondering why she’d been summoned at all. “Of course. Thank you. I promise your wishes will be carried out. I... uh, goodbye.”
What the hell did one say to a man you’d never really liked who was likely to die any day now?
“Yeah.”
Assuming that was his last word, she turned to leave.
Froze when he blurted out, “Wait, girl.”
She turned around.
“Jacob.”
“I’m sorry, sir?”
“Jacob.”
“What about him?”
“Can you...?” Maybe the conversation was too much for him. He was trailing off, like he didn’t have the energy to even finish a sentence.
“Can I what, sir?”
“Make sure he’s okay. Not sure if he is or not.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me, girl. Make sure he’s okay.”
Ria swallowed so hard it hurt her throat. She shifted from foot to foot to give herself a moment to figure out what to say. “I think he’s okay. He seems like he’s done pretty well for himself.”
“But is he happy?”
Her throat was aching now. Almost unbearably. “I... I don’t know.”
“Find out.” Mr. Worth’s face twisted as he readjusted positions in bed. He must be in some sort of pain. “You were always the one who made him happy. So find out for me.”
“I... Um... Okay. I’ll... try.” It wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to say that she was the last person in the world who should be put in this position. But the man was dying. He was clearly in pain. He didn’t have much time left.
She simply didn’t have the heart to tell the man no—to tell anyone no—in those conditions.
“Good. Thanks.” He turned his head away and closed his eyes.
And that was clearly the end of the strange encounter. Ria left the room, feeling shaky and torn.
What the hell was she supposed to do? She and Jacob weren’t close anymore. He’d hurt her more than anyone else ever had.