Page 14 of Out of Nowhere

“Thank you. We’ll be there.” She clicked off and set her phone and calendar aside. “I took the liberty of scheduling you an appointment with the funeral director.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t know when they’ll release his… his body. I was told it could be several days.”

“When they do, you’ll have the preparations already behind you.”

Elle sat down, leaned back in her chair, and gazed up at the ceiling, thinking of all the arrangements she needed to attend to, how exhausting those chores would be, and how unmotivated she was to do a damn thing.

After a lengthy pause, Glenda tentatively resumed. “Your parents are due in at eight-thirty this evening. I scheduled a car to pick them up at the airport, bring them here, and then wait until they’re ready to go to the hotel, where I’ve reserved them a room.”

At Elle’s request, Glenda had called them from the morgue to deliver the news. It was an impersonal and insensitive way to inform them of their only grandchild’s death, but, at the time, Charlie had looked so cold and pale that to leave him alone would have felt like abandonment.

Glenda had reported that her parents, who lived in Michigan, had heard of the mass shooting on CNN, but, of course, they never would have dreamed that Charlie and she were victims.

It had been the middle of the night when Glenda had called them, but they’d told her they would book themselves on the next available flight and would text her their itinerary.

Glenda said now, “Of course you have the option of having them stay here with you.”

“I suppose I should extend the offer.”

“Do you want them here?”

She gave a feeble smile. “Not really.”

“Then don’t offer, Elle.” Glenda leaned forward and said with earnestness, “Get this straight. You don’t have to cater to anyone except yourself. You don’t have to be stoic or an example of how to grieve elegantly. You don’t have to do or be anything you don’t want to.”

“Except to go on living.”

“You don’t mean that,” Glenda said softly. “I know you don’t. Think of the awful legacy that would lay on your precious Charlie.”

When Elle didn’t respond, Glenda took a deep breath and continued with the practical matters. “I also notified Laura.”

Laura Musgrave was Elle’s literary agent.

“At first, she was in shock; then she became distraught. She wanted to speak to you immediately. I told her you were sleeping but that I was certain you would contact her soon. She plans to fly down for the funeral. We’re to send her the details when we have them.”

“I’ll call her in a while. There are so many people I need to notify.”

“Taken care of,” Glenda said. “I got into the contacts on your phone and made a list of first-tier friends and acquaintances, people I thought you would want notified sooner rather than later. I sent all the info to my staff. They’re making those calls on your behalf.”

“What about Jeff?” Elle asked.

“I didn’t know how you’d feel about that, so I left him out.”

“He’s my ex-husband. Word will get around to him.”

“Which, to my mind, relieves you of an awkward conversation.”

Elle extended her hand in a gesture of gratitude. “You’ve been busy while I was knocked out. Did you get any rest?”

“I took a nap.”

“Thank you for handling things.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Elle withered. “What?”

“Since the fairground isn’t within a city limit, the investigation falls to the county sheriff’s office. Detectives want to talk to you, but they’re extending you the courtesy of coming here rather than having you go to them. If you hadn’t woken up when you did, I would have had to wake you. They’re due here soon.”

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