Page 25 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
Lily grabbed a feather duster and made a show of dusting the wall clock (a vintage starburst design that since the switcheroo had become less star and more burst). Candice, even with her heightened blood alcohol level, got the hint.
‘Oh, is that the time?’ Candice dabbed her eyes with a napkin and straightened her pickleball skirt. ‘I have an appointmentwith my personal trainer.’ Her mascara-smudged eyes widened. ‘You don’t thinkhe’sbehind the Save the Date cards, do you?’
‘I doubt anyone you’re paying money to wants you dead,’ Lily assured her.
Grabbing her mini bottle of prosecco (Lily wasn’t going to object), Candice skedaddled, leaving Lily to embark upon some hasty tidying before Coriana’s imminent arrival.
Cranking a vinyl record on the record player – wait, was Elvis meant to sound quite that … spooky? – she went over to the armoire that housed the different paint samples and decals she collected for the inspo packages she put together for her couples (or throuples). She hesitantly cracked a few of the paint lids, sighing with relief when she saw they were untainted by the magical rain.
Adjusting her paint-flecked shirt and tying a shawl around her hair, Lily raced about covering up the most egregious marks on the walls. As she’d found before with her pink paint travails, paintingoverthe black blobs didn’t work, but paintingaroundthem did.
Lily tapped the handle of the paintbrush to her mouth, thinking. The dots almost looked like sunflower florets, or perhaps the spots on a cheetah. That one over here could be a heart. She could make a mural out of them – something bright and cheerful.
She’d managed a few sunflowers and a bird when the door opened. Mort stood there, looking quite cocky for someone whose business had had a magical change of heart only hours ago. He was dressed in his usual black formalwear – the man could rock a suit – and Lily felt astonishingly underdressed.
‘Transitioning into an art gallery already, I see,’ he said.
‘Could you help?’ begged Lily. ‘I have a reporter coming to do a feature on the place at three, so time is of the essence.’
‘You didn’t … postpone? You do realise this is the perfect opportunity to get out of talking to someone.’
Lily raised an eyebrow. For someone who apparently disliked people so much, Mort didn’t seem shy about dropping into the shop to chitchat. Was this whole grumpy persona a façade? Or did he perhaps enjoy Lily’s company?
‘How do I know it won’t still be like this tomorrow or next week?’ She added some petals to the flower she was working on. ‘We could be switcherooed foryears.’
‘At least you’d have a good excuse to ask for a lease extension – the property delivered wasn’t the property promised.’
‘I bet the Chamber of Commerce would love that rationale.’
‘I’d find it quite compelling,’ said Mort.
‘Here.’ Lily went over to her paint stash, browsing for the most garish colours she could find, which was most of them. ‘How do you feel aboutFucking Fuchsia?’
‘But I barely know her,’ Mort said. Ah, there was that wit. Lily supposed you needed it when you were in a line of work like his.
Lily chuckled. ‘What about …YELL-ow?’
Shaking his head, Mort popped on a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses to read the tiny print. The glasses were quite becoming – not that Lily was looking.
‘There must be something less shouty,’ said Mort. ‘I’ll go withRhymes with Orange.’
He took the paintbrush Lily offered him and gingerly dipped it into the tin. The look on his face when he saw the tangelo hue on the brush amused Lily to no end; she’d never seen anyone so distraught over a paint colour.
Crossing the fingers of his right hand, Mort daubed orange over a dark blot on the wall with his left.
‘A lefty, huh?’ noted Lily.
‘Demon child,’ agreed Mort. ‘It’s why I was dumped on a doorstep.’
Lily messed up the stem she was working on. ‘Wait, really?’
‘I doubt it. How would anyone have known my preferred hand at the age of eight weeks?’
‘The bigger question is how did they carry you to the doorsteps if they were only eight weeks old?’
‘Very good question. I think they were winged babies. Putti, like in all those Renaissance paintings.’
‘Let me know if you have their details.’ Lily added a pink flower around one of the dark blots. ‘Winged babies are highly sought after for themed weddings. People will pay extra if the grannies can pinch their cheeks.’
