Chapter 4 #4
He straightened his tie and squared his shoulders. “I would never do something like that.”
“Pfft. I would. No way am I waiting on someone to scoot me along into the next life for a year.”
“Well, you don’t really have a choice,” he defended.
“You always have a choice.”
“She told me you’d be stubborn . . .” he muttered.
“What?” Dell asked, eyes wide. “Who told you?”
“My supervisor.”
Dell blinked at him, silently encouraging him to continue.
He got the message with a nod. “Right. So, when I accidentally transitioned you, I knew you’d be sent to the DAD to wait out your own case investigation, even though it was a simple name mix-up. The administration
loves their paperwork. I didn’t want to put you through that, so I went to my supervisor and requested it be undone. Unfortunately, there is no automatic reversal. Instead, she gave me three days, here, with you, to correct a wrong turn you took at some point, and that will undo it.”
Dell simply stared at him, trying to digest the most bizarre thing she’d ever heard. She could feel her mind reaching the
physical barrier at the edge of understanding. The limit of her own intelligence and capacity for thought. It was the feeling
she got when trying to understand something real but beyond comprehension, like the physics of outer space or Adam Driver’s
sex appeal.
“I know, it’s a lot,” Cole said. “I didn’t really believe any of it was real when it was all happening to me either. But it
is, I promise you.” He nervously watched her. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“So, the person waiting in the department where they investigate accidental, untimely deaths—you—accidentally, untimely ended someone’s life, and that someone is me?”
“Yes,” he said with a deep blush.
“And now you are here to help me identify a wrong turn”—she made air quotes around the words—“that will bring me back to life?”
“Correct.”
“Sounds like the wrong turn was when some random guy from the afterlife mistook me for some old lady and deleted me from earthly existence, but that seems
less like my doing and one hundred percent your fault.”
He flinched at the end of her sentence. “You’re right. It is my fault. And I’m sorry. That’s why I’m here to fix it.”
She considered him with a narrowed gaze. He did seem genuinely sorry. And how else was she supposed to get out of this mess?
Trusting him seemed like the only option. “Okay. But I haven’t taken any wrong turns.”
“Are you sure?”
Dell inwardly cringed at his question. Sure, if pressed, she could name a few less-than-stellar moments from her life, but
were any of them worth an existential do-over? Chances didn’t seem high.
But she was also dead and talking to another ghost. So . . .
“Maybe there are a few things to consider,” she reluctantly admitted.
“Excellent,” Cole said with a grin. “Let’s make a list and get to work.” He dug into the satchel hanging from his shoulder
and pulled out a notepad. While he was turned, Dell snatched the book he still held.
“Hey!” he cried, and reached to grab it back.
Dell yanked it away and flipped the cover.
Inside, ancient-looking font curled over ancient paper.
“ ‘Rules and Regulations for Postmortem Conduct on Earth: An Afterlife Administration Handbook. Third Edition.’ ” She read the title and huffed a small laugh.
“Are the first two editions chiseled in stone? How old is this thing?” She
went to turn another page, and Cole grabbed it back.
“Very. Please don’t damage it.” He shoved it into his satchel and clicked the pen he held. “Now, this list.”
Dell loved a good list, but (a) she wasn’t too keen on making one of all the ways she’d messed up in life, and (b) she was
way more interested in that handbook.
“What does it say?” she asked, and reached for his bag again.
Cole swiveled his hips to pull it out of reach and knocked into her with his shoulder. Dell stumbled backward, and he swung
out an arm to grab her around the waist.
“Sorry,” he said, flustered.
Dell shared his fluster, but mainly over the fact he was cradling her against his body like he was dipping her over in a dance move. He looked down at her with his soul-gazing eyes for a hot second, and Dell found herself disappointed when he let go of her.
“It’s okay,” she said, and smoothed her rumpled nightie.
Cole took a moment to gather himself. He cleared his throat. “Would you prefer to make this list here, or back at your house?”
“I’d prefer not to make it at all,” Dell said with a frown.
“Well, seeing as that’s not an option, I suggest we—”
Dell cut him off with a gasp.
“What? What is it?” Cole said, and looked around as if they were in danger.
“That’s going to be a problem,” she said, and pointed up the street back toward her house.
At the sound of worry in her voice, Cole whipped around to look. A news van had parked outside her house. Across the street
from it, an SUV with tinted windows stopped at the curb, and Evelyn Moratto climbed out.
Dell couldn’t be sure if the reporters had followed the mayor, or if the mayor had invited them. Either way, word getting
out she was dead would cause a scandal.