The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3 by Paula Lester (best ereader for comics .txt) 📗

worn galoshes. Instead, she’d chosen comfort, wearing her baby blue Converse sneakers and skinny jeans. After all, her mother hadn’t mentioned anything about a dress code.

Cheryl dismissed Tessa’s bravado with a wave. “Come on. Let’s get you started.” She glanced at the Rolex on her delicate wrist. “You need to be at your first assignment in twenty minutes.”

Tessa groaned. Of course, she’d already been given an assignment.

Her Chuck Taylors felt like they had tiny lead weights in them as she shuffled toward her mother’s office.

The inside of the building was a stark contrast to the outside. The lobby floor was green and beige swirled marble. It was lined by six office doors in a ring. A large desk stood in the center of the wall directly across from the front door, but it was unmanned at the moment. Well, thank goodness for small miracles. The secretary was even more annoying than Tessa’s mom.

A large sign made up of bronze metal letters hung on the wall above the desk, proclaiming the actual name of the business to be The Final Journey Agency.

Tessa snorted, just as she had a week earlier when she saw the name for the first time. If a human happened to get through the dismal exterior and make it inside looking for life insurance, the name wouldn’t let them know what the place actually was—a reaper agency—but it would be quite the downer.

Until a week earlier, Tessa hadn’t had any idea such places existed. She’d certainly never known her mother worked for one. She’d received quite an education about the original Grim Reaper and how, centuries earlier, overwhelmed by the boom in the world’s population, he’d contracted out his duties.

Apparently, the original Grim Reaper now lived in the lap of luxury somewhere in the Caribbean while others, mere mortals magically imbued with his mystical abilities to transport souls across the veil between worlds, did all the heavy lifting for him.

The corners of Tessa’s mouth twitched downward. She’d needed a change, that was for sure. When that ex-boyfriend, Frank, left her on the side of the road, she’d spent two hours soul-searching as she trudged home. And she’d decided to completely overhaul her life. Get a real career instead of continuing the waitressing job that had sapped the life force out of her for ten years.

Besides, she was pretty sure if Frank didn’t want her as a girlfriend, he probably wouldn’t continue to employ her at his restaurant either. What made it worse was all the overtime pay he’d promised her. She was never going to see that.

In the past, in dire circumstances such as these, she’d ask her dad for help. But that was the past. Tessa had to make the painful decision to go to her mother and ask for a loan to float her while she went back to school to become a nurse.

But Cheryl had other ideas. It turned out she’d recently been promoted and needed to train a replacement.

Tessa hadn’t liked the idea of becoming a life insurance agent, but there wasn’t much choice. Reluctantly, she’d gone to the agency with her mother and learned the truth.

Cheryl’s office was a minimalist’s dream. A glass desk, holding only a laptop, stood against the far wall, flanked by two black office chairs that looked so uncomfortable they seemed specifically designed to discourage sitting. The walls, painted a light rose color, were devoid of any pictures—not a one of Tessa or her father. Only a clock, which ticked louder than any Tessa had encountered in her life, hung on the otherwise blank canvas. Two silver metal filing cabinets and a coat rack with an umbrella and raincoat hanging on it completed the room’s décor, if one decided to use that term liberally.

Tessa plopped into the chair, drawing a critical frown from her mother. But Cheryl didn’t correct her posture. She went around to the other side of the desk, lowered herself gracefully into the chair, all the while maintaining her usual ramrod-straight posture. She clicked a few keys on the laptop. “You’re all set.”

“I’m set? I thought you said you had to perform a ceremony to grant me my abilities?” Tessa had pictured something like a sprinkling of fairy dust or an ordainment with a scythe.

“That was it.” Cheryl’s eyes stayed glued to her laptop screen. “You’re a grim reaper. Your first assignment is out at the Sweetwater Golf Course. Mr. Dale Jeffries.”

Cheryl spun the laptop around so Tessa could see the picture of a balding elderly man wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He was beaming with good-natured spirit.

Tessa scanned the paragraph below the photo to see how he was going to die and grimaced. “Harsh.”

“It’s not so bad, really. You’ll encounter much worse.” Cheryl’s perfectly manicured eyebrows rose like butterflies caught on a gentle breeze. “It’s not a hard job, Theresa. All you have to do is show up, and you can make a mint. It’s showing up. That’s the important bit.”

“Tessa,” she corrected, trying not to grimace at the use of her full name and to ignore the pleading tone in her mother’s voice.

Sure, her mother wanted good things for her. But this was a hard job. She’d lost countless hours of sleep over it in the past week. She liked the idea of gently aiding the recently deceased on to the next point in their journey, but she wasn’t anxious to be there in the final moments of their lives.

Still, she’d read the contract carefully, and it was a non-negotiable part of her job. She wouldn’t get paid for any assignment if it were missed. And if it was missed, there could be dire consequences. That was where the contract was vague.

“Fine. I guess I’ll head over now.” Tessa rose and headed out, stopping in the doorway to launch a question over her shoulder. “Wait. Isn’t that the golf course Dad liked to play so much?”

Cheryl’s expression visibly softened, and she nodded. “He never shot under par, but he kept on trying.” She blinked a few