Page 31 of After Life
“Lisa,” she said firmly. “Heinrich went through nearly the same sort of meat grinder as Oscar. He was Violet’s bestie. He might think he’s giving you helpful insight but it’s going to be pretty much Grandmere-lite. Lisa’s going to have a different perspective, different suggestions.”
“I’m not comfortable with that,” I said flatly. “She’s a nice woman but—”
“But it was just a suggestion,” CeCe said, exasperated. “And I thought you realized she was nothing like her TV persona. Shit! Look, I gotta go. I’m calling you tonight, alright?”
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, groaning as I stretched out my legs and let my aching hip relax. I hadn’t accomplished a damn thing since leaving Oscar in the study. Grabbing my cane, I shoved to my feet, determined to tell Oscar that, as ‘fine’ as he claimed to be, I wasn’t going to leave him alone all evening.
Not when this place didn’t feel safe in the slightest.
“Doctor Weems,” Sandra called as I reached the foyer.
Shit. “Yes?”
“I’d like to bend your ear again, if I may? I have some more thoughts regarding part of my monograph. Since you’ve seen Rites and Rituals, you might be in a position to help me smooth this out.”
She was smiling hopefully, and I almost hated to turn her down, but not enough to actually give in and ignore Oscar just for the sake of politeness. “Ah, well, my area of specialty is in burial practices and—”
“And that’s perfect,” she cheered, smiling so big her face looked unreal. “You might be able to help me fill in some of the gaps I’ve found. I’d credit you, of course.”
“That’s very kind, but maybe this can wait till after my vacation with my boyfriend is over? We’re really here to relax and spend some time together.”
Her smile dimmed a bit, became sharper as she folded her arms and glared at me. “Are you saying you don’t miss being able to speak with a peer about your area of expertise? Sharing intelligent conversation with an equal, someone who has actually made something of themselves rather than gone the path of least resistance?”
The snap of my temper was damn near audible. Her refusal to take no for an answer, her insistence on getting me on my own... Her pressure was a violation, and I was done being polite to keep the peace. “Sandra,” I snapped, “that’s uncalled for. Move out of my way!” I started toward her, but her hand on my chest stopped me from pure surprise more than force. “Remove your hand.”
“Oscar’s a very nice man, I’m sure, but you’re wasted on that show, Doctor Weems. You belong in research. I’ve read some of your work. It’s brilliant. Your thesis on the symbolic necrophagic rites in rural America was inspired.”
Words literally failed me. I was torn between you read my thesis and what the actual fuck is going on here. Before I could muster so much as a peep, though, the study door opened and Oscar stood, glaring at Sandra, lips twisted in a disappointed scowl. “I think that Julian is fully capable of deciding what he is and isn’t suited for, Ms. Cochrane.”
“Oscar, hey,” I started toward him, my heart lightening. “I was coming to find you.”
“Doctor Weems,” Sandra interrupted, “I have a laundry list of things I need to do this afternoon. I just need a few moments of your time.”
“Just a few?” Oscar asked blandly. “Are you willing to give up a few more minutes of our holiday, then? I suppose I’ll just go wait quietly in the corner?”
“Oscar, what the hell? I’m not—”
“Thank you,” Sandra barked. “We won’t be but a minute.”
Oscar threw up his hands. “I’m going to walk into town, get some fresh air.”
“Oscar—”
“No, it’s fine, Julian. I need some time to be uninspired. You enjoy chatting with Sandra.”
“Goddamnit,” I muttered, pushing her hand away. She shrugged, giving me a tight-lipped smile. “Oscar!”
The front door closed firmly in his wake and Sandra sighed. “He’ll be fine. The storm’s hours away. He needs to blow off some steam. Now, let’s talk business.”
Annoyance spiked hot and hard in my stomach. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about running a B&B,” I said. “So, I’m not sure what kind of professional matters we could discuss.” I huffed a breath, closing my eyes for a moment before turning my gaze back to her with a tight, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s been... stressful, lately.”
Rage darkened her expression for a heartbeat, then she jerked her chin again and her bland, polite lines were back in place. “I’ve been writing something about Honey Walk and Broken Palm Island. The unique history of the place and how it came to be, despite the challenges the colonists faced trying to form their society here.”
The grip of my cane dug into my palm to the point of pain. I wanted to use it to force her back but, you know, assault laws. “Please move out of my way.”
Her glance flicked down to my hand on the cane, then back to my face. Her smile sharpened. “Just a few questions, Doctor Weems.”
“Christ. What are they?”
