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

winters. Maybe she could get a head start on those plans later this week while attending the reaper convention in Florida.

But skydiving? That was never on her list. It, along with wearing thong bikinis and eating anything made with ghost peppers, was something Tessa thought she’d never do. But it was just like this job to prove her wrong. She could only hope that reaping and thongs would stay far apart.

As Tessa pulled into the flight school’s dusty parking lot, she regretted the greasy bacon and eggs she’d had for breakfast, which rolled around like her stomach was an old-style butter churn.

She pulled a cross-body purse over her head, closed the car door, and forced reluctant feet to move toward the school. It was a huge, bright red, steel-sided building divided in half, one part an open hanger bay containing a small plane and the other an office space. When she entered the office side, a box above the door played a cheerful, tinny little tune.

Tessa scanned the lobby, which sported hard plastic chairs and framed pictures of smiling people wearing flight suits and looking relieved to be alive.

She thought of Mr. Hanson and how this would be his last jump. A tiny lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it away. He was ninety and would go doing something he loved.

Plus, he’d have his own personal reaper right there, ready to show him the way to the other side, where, presumably, the next phase of his soul’s journey awaited.

“Morning, you! You’re right on time.”

Tessa spun at the sound of the male voice and found a nice-looking thirty-something guy with dark hair smiling at her. She drew her hand up and waved with her fingers shyly. “Hi.”

The man stuck out his hand. “Bryce Hanson.”

“I’m, um, Tessa Randolph.”

He squeezed it gently and smiled bigger. “Welcome, Um Tessa Randolph.”

“Just Tessa.”

“Okay, Just Tessa.”

Tessa chuckled, then her forehead scrunched. “Mr. Hanson? Are you . . . my instructor?” If this guy was celebrating his ninetieth birthday, Tessa wanted to know his secret for maintaining youth before she let him go into the great beyond.

Bryce chuckled. “My grandpa and I are, yeah.”

Ah. “So, this is a family business?”

“It is now.” Bryce nodded. “Grandpa came here for the first time when he turned sixty. It was love at first jump, and he eventually became an instructor and helped me learn. I bought the place five years ago, with Grandpa co-signing.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels, chest puffing. “It’s been a great run.”

“Wow. Well, congratulations. It’s great to do something you love.”

He nodded and then gestured toward a second room. “Let’s get started. You’re our only jumper today. There’s a couple videos to watch and a few other bits of training to do, and then you can get your AFF on.”

“My what?”

“Accelerated Free Fall. It’s the type of skydiving we do here.”

Tessa swallowed hard. “Accelerated? Does that mean it’s faster than regular skydiving?” She forced herself to follow Bryce out of the lobby and into a small conference room.

“Not faster. You ever heard of terminal velocity?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she said. “But I’ve never felt it.”

“Nervous?” Bryce fiddled with a computer, and a projection screen on the wall lit up.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Well, don’t be. Grandpa and I know what we’re doing. And AFF is the best way to experience the exhilaration of a real free fall.” He winked. “It’s gonna be fun.”

“Sure, it is.” She wasn’t convinced. She may not die during the flight, but she could absolutely squeal like a ninny and embarrass herself. Not that the elder Mr. Hanson would be able to tell anyone.

But the video was interesting, and by the time it was over, Tessa felt a little more at ease.

Bryce led her into the hanger where a man who looked like an older version of him, only with white hair, stood eating a sandwich. “This is my grandfather, Bryce Hanson.”

“But—”

“I know.” Bryce nodded. “I’m a third. I used to go by Trey. But these days, I’m Bryce and this is Instructor Hanson.”

The elderly man wiped a hand on his pants and shook Tessa’s. “It’s a great day for a first-time jumper,” he said. His voice was gravely, like you’d expect of a nonagenarian but otherwise, he looked hale and healthy. Hard to believe his ticker was on its last few beats.

He gestured to a platter with more food. “Hungry for lunch?”

“I’ll pass.” Tessa didn’t relish the thought of having a full stomach when she did her jump. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

His bushy eyebrows rose. “How’d you know it’s my birthday?”

Oops. “Your grandson told me.”

The younger Bryce had crossed the room to talk to a woman wearing a neat uniform with black epaulettes on her shoulders, who Tessa figured was their pilot, so he didn’t hear the lie.

“Ah. Well, thank you. But, at my age, every day’s a happy day to be alive. Has to be. You never know when you’ll be done with this world.” He popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth and gestured for Tessa to follow him to a wall lined with hanging flight suits and other equipment. “Let’s get you fitted.”

The next hour passed quickly as Bryce and the elder Instructor Hanson helped Tessa get fitted and showed her how to use the parachute, even taking her outside onto a big grassy lawn to practice.

The two men had an easy relationship. It was obvious they were fond of each other. When Bryce ran inside to get something, she said as much to his grandfather. “I wish my mom and I got along like the two of you do,” she added.

The older man studied her for a moment, pursing his lips. Then he smiled, revealing a cracked tooth in front. “Ya know, that’s the thing about life. It’s easy to spend a lot of time thinking about how imperfect things are. How you’d like it to be different. A person can literally while away years doin’ that. If you