The novel hits shelves on June 28.
Things get really complicated when her new editor shows up at the funeral parlor…as a ghost.
Read the excerpt after the cover image below.
Berkley
Copyright 2022
My heart floundered.
It swelled and deflated and felt strange.
Mom looked up from her lap when I came into the parlor, and quickly jumped to her feet.
she called, opening her arms, and rushed over to me.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said softly, and finally let me go.
She tucked my hair behind my ears, and her eyes were a little wet.
“You’re still skin and bones, though!
What do they feed you in New Yorklettuce and depression?”
“About,” I replied, unable to hide a laugh.
She squeezed my hands tightly, and I squeezed them back.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
We were just getting to the good part, weren’t we?"
Leave it to Mom to find agood partin reading Dad’s will.
Seaburn bumped his shoulder against mine and gave me a nod.
“Nice to see you home.”
She took out a list from the manila envelope on her lap, and showed it to us.
Carver gave a groan from his seat in the highback velvet chair.“Chores?”
Alice massaged the bridge of her nose.
“Even from beyond the grave, he’s making us work for free.”
“Alice,” Mom chided.
“He’s not even in the grave yet.”
I was surprised she could read his handwriting at allit was revoltingly bad.
For my funeral, I would like one thousand wildflowers.
Bouquets are to be organized by color."
A murmur of confusion crossed the room.
Wildflowers, like the ones he picked every Saturday for Mom.
I glanced over at her, and she hid a smile as she looked down into her lap.
Alice and Carver were blanching at the requestthey hadn’t realized its significance.
Why athousand, though, I didn’t know.
I want Elvis to perform at my funeral."
Seaburn murmured to his wife, “Isn’t he dead .
“Very,” she replied.
I was beginning to get the worst sort of feeling.
I want Unlimited Party to supply decorations.
And then Karen Williams took the yellowed receipt out of the envelope.
There won’t be any tears.”
I curled my hands into fists.
Karen put the receipt back, and kept reading, “Four.
I want a murder of twelve to fly during the ceremony.”
“A murder?”
Twelve crows," I translated.
“Five, my final request.
Not a moment before”
The doorbell rang.
Seaburn asked the group, “We’re not expecting anyone else, are we?”
I checked my watch.
It was 9:00 p.m. A little late for visitors.
“Could be flowers,” Carver pointed out.
“Or someone canvassing for mayor,” Karen added.
“Our mayor’s a dog.
Who would want to run against adog?”
Mom said, “Florence, you’re closest.”
“Sure,” I replied, and made my way to the front door to answer it.
What kind of letter did Dad want me to read for his funeral?
I didn’t like the sound of that.
Or the time Carver was playing in a coffin and it closed on him.
He was that kind of person.
And hedefinitelywas the kind of person to include a PowerPoint presentation in the letter, too.
And that just made me miss him more.
He couldn’t be gone, could he?
Hehe could still be here.
He had unfinished business, didn’t he?
He hadn’t said goodbye.
A body
A man.
My heart leapt into my throatDad?
too tall, too broad.
It only took a moment to recognize who he was
Well, who he hadonce been.
And he was most definitely dead.
BEN’S GAZE FELL on mine as soon as I said his name.
His eyes were dark and wide andconfused.
The slightest crease between his eyebrows deepened as he recognized me.
“MMiss Day?”
I slammed the door closed.
Ohno, no, no.
This wasn’t happening.
I didn’t see anything.
It was a trick of the light.
It was my overworked brain.
It was
“Florence?”
Mom called from the parlor.
“Who is it?”
“Umno one,” I replied, my hand curling tighter around the
doorknob.
The faintest outline of the figure still stood in the door way, shadowed in the stained glass.
He wasn’t gone.
I closed my eyes, and let out a breath.
Nothing was there, Florence.
No one was there.
Not your dad, and not the crazyhot editor who was mostcertainlynot dead.
I opened the door again.
And there Benji Andor stood as he had before.
Ghosts didn’t look like they did in the moviesat least from my experience.
They weren’t mangled, flesh rotting off their bones.
They shimmered, actually, when they moved.
Just enough to make them look a little wrong.
Benji Andor looked like that, standing on the welcome mat to the Days Gone Funeral Home.
His tie was a little askew, though, just enough to make me want to straighten it.
My gaze lingered on his lips.
I remembered them, the way they tasted.
He shimmered, slightly, like a holograph in glitter.
I reached out toward him, slowly, to touch his chest
And my hand went through him.
A burst of frost.
