Love and Neckties (Rockland Falls Book 4) Read online

  Love and Neckties

  Rockland Falls book 4

  Copyright © 2020 Lacey Black

  Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs

  Cover Photographer Regina Wamba

  Cover Models Nikki and Frankie

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand

  Proofreading by Joanne Thompson & Karen Hrdlicka

  Format by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  All rights reserved.

  Index

  Also by Lacey Black

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Lacey Black

  Rivers Edge series

  Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers

  ~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance

  Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)

  Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)

  Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)

  Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)

  Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)

  Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)

  ~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology

  With Me, A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Brooklyn and Becker)

  BOX SET – contains all 5 novels, 2 novellas, and a BONUS short story

  Bound Together series

  Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)

  ~ An International Bestseller

  Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  Entwined, Bound Together book 3 (Luke and Sidney)

  Summer Sisters series

  My Kinda Kisses, Summer Sisters book 1 (Jaime and Ryan)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  My Kinda Night, Summer Sisters book 2 (Payton and Dean)

  My Kinda Song, Summer Sisters book 3 (Abby and Levi)

  My Kinda Mess, Summer Sisters book 4 (Lexi and Linkin)

  My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 5 (AJ and Sawyer)

  My Kinda Forever, Summer Sisters book 6 (Meghan and Nick)

  My Kinda Wedding, A Summer Sisters Novella book 7 (Meghan and Nick)

  Rockland Falls series

  Love and Pancakes, Rockland Falls book 1

  Love and Lingerie, Rockland Falls book 2

  Love and Landscape, Rockland Falls book 3

  Love and Neckties, Rockland Falls book 4

  Standalone

  Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

  A Place To Call Home, a Memorial Day novella

  Exes and Ho Ho Ho’s, a sexy contemporary romance standalone novella

  Pants on Fire, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

  Co-Written with NYT Bestselling Author, Kaylee Ryan

  It’s Not Over, Fair Lakes book 1

  Just Getting Started, Fair Lakes book 2

  *Coming Soon from Lacey Black

  Can’t Get Enough, Fair Lakes book 3, with Kaylee Ryan

  Double Dog Dare You, a new standalone (Royce from Pants on Fire)

  Grip, A Driven World Novel

  Chapter One

  Samuel

  I adjust the small angel pendant on Mrs. Hammond’s suit collar one final time, making sure everything is just right. Soft, classical music pipes through the speakers, while the video montage of her life plays on the screen in back. The flowers and plants are displayed perfectly, and the family is ready to say their final goodbyes with loved ones who came to share their condolences.

  Her visitation will begin soon, just a typical Tuesday for me.

  I make my way to the main office where Elma, our assistant, types an obituary for our website. She struggles with uploading to the site, yet can type like a court stenographer. Elma came from the typewriter era, and while she’s the master at making sure the obits are worded correctly, she struggles with just about every other aspect of the process.

  “Why does this line keep blinking at me? It moved up the page and now my words are typing in the wrong spot,” the older woman complains, jabbing at the delete button with her frail finger.

  “The cursor is supposed to move and blink, Elma. If it’s not in the right spot, it’s because you moved it,” I tell her calmly. This is a daily occurrence and something I’m used to fixing.

  “I just don’t see the point of these machines. The Royal Epoch over there was working just fine,” she grumbles, pointing to the antique device that hasn’t been used in more than two decades, yet refuses to let me get rid of “in case they come back in style.”

  As I move to look at the screen over her shoulder, I’m assaulted with the scent of mothballs and Avon perfume. Timeless, I believe is what she calls it, though it really just reminds me of my grandma’s bathroom when I was a kid.

  I move the mouse, demonstrating once more how she can do so herself, but she’s already getting up and moving on to filing. Elma’s the only woman to ever have stepped foot in the office of Hanson Funeral Home. Her late husband, Ernest, started the business in 1964, with Elma running the office with an iron fist. In the eighties, their son, Robert, joined the family business, eventually taking over a few years ago when Ernest passed away. Now, Rob’s son, Aaron, has finished school and joined his dad in their family legacy.

  Unfortunately, Aaron doesn’t actually care about working.

  That leaves Rob and me, the one the young Hanson leans on to do, well, everything. I don’t mind, though. I’m as dedicated to this business as the old man was before his heart attack, God rest his soul.

  “The Hammond family should be here soon,” Elma states, as I complete the upload of our newest obituary to the website.

  “I’ll meet them at the door,” I reply, heading toward the wooden front entrance of our funeral home. I stop by the fireplace first, checking the knot on my navy blue tie in the mirror. It’s already flawless, of course, but I always verify before meeting a family. Or before leaving the house. A perfectly executed double Windsor knot is on display, my favorite knot to tie.

  I learned how to tie a necktie when I was seven, your basic four-in-hand knot. Over the years, I’ve learned four additional ways to display my tie, most of them named after British royals, and all based on the type of collar on the crisp dress shirt I’m wearing. I even took an online course on folding handkerchiefs. You never know when that will come in handy.

/>   With my tie in perfect order, I head to the front door, holding it open just as the family arrives. I greet the grieving daughter and son-in-law, Debbie and Stuart, as well as their three children, handing them a small packet of tissues as they enter the funeral home. It’s one thing I’ve learned over the years: be prepared. Always.

  I escort them to the entrance of the parlor, where their loved one waits. They slowly make their way inside to say their goodbyes, while I wait just outside the door. After fifteen minutes, they come out to take a breather.

  “I’ll open the doors at four o’clock to the public,” I tell them.

  “Thank you, Samuel. You’ve been most helpful during this time,” Debbie says, and I can tell already she’s about to hug me. Grievers always hug, and why they feel the need to hug me is beyond my comprehension, especially when a handshake will suffice. Handshakes are professional. Yet here I am, being wrapped in her arms, a slight sniffle pulling my attention to the fact she probably just wiped her nose on my jacket sleeve.

  “It’s my pleasure to see your mother’s final wishes were seen to,” I insist, awkwardly patting her pack in an effort to return her affection.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Debbie says, taking a step back and wiping her nose on the crumbled up tissue in her hand. I try not to think about all of those germs. “I have someone stopping by after the visitation this evening.”

  “Oh?” I ask, running through tonight’s schedule of events and coming up empty for an end of the night visitor.

  “Yes, my Reiki healer is stopping by to see Mom.”

  “I’m sorry, Reiki?” I ask, racking my mind for what in the world that means. We’ve had our fair share of pastors, priests, and rabbis in the house, but I’m not sure what a Reiki healer is.

  “Oh, it’s this wonderfully relaxing Japanese technique that assists with many things, like your body’s natural healing process, relieving emotional stress, and improving your body’s overall well-being.”

  I stare at the woman as she easily pitches the concept of this Reiki bullshit as if she were reading it out of the brochure. “And this will help your mother how?” I find myself asking, unable to see the connection.

  “Well, there’s nothing better than sending Mom off to her final resting place when she’s free of stress, right?”

  Well, she’s dead, so…

  “Anyway, my Reiki healer has agreed to stop by after the visitation tonight to perform a treatment on Mom. It’ll only take about a half hour or so,” Debbie says matter-of-factly.

  “Okay, I’m sure I can accommodate your…healer.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, Samuel. This means a lot to me,” Debbie adds before, yep, you guessed it, pulling me into another tight hug. “Mom’s spirit will fly free thanks to this woman.”

  “I bet she will,” I mumble, standing perfectly still as the woman finishes her hug. Before she completely removes her hands from my body, however, she reaches up and adjusts the knot on my tie. My heart stops in my chest as this woman paws all over my perfectly executed double Windsor.

  Completely horrified, I gently pull back, reaching up automatically and tweaking the soft silk tie. I can tell the tie is askew and not at all where it should be. The tightness in my throat is almost choking as I try not to make a big show of moving it back into place.

  “You’re such a handsome man, Samuel. I can’t believe you haven’t married yet,” Debbie says, heading over to the mirror and adding a second coat of a light lipstick.

  “Guests will start to arrive any moment. I’m going to greet those attending at the front door,” I state professionally, completely glossing over her comment as if I didn’t hear her.

  Debbie just nods and heads into the main parlor, her family hot on her heels.

  As soon as she’s gone, I step up to the mirror and frantically correct my tie. I can practically see her finger smudges on the pristine material, even though they probably aren’t visible to the naked eye. But I know they’re there, taunting and mocking me with their imperfections.

  I do the best I can to eliminate the tiny wrinkles from her fingers and head to the entrance. It’s only a few minutes later that the early birds start to arrive to pay their respects. I can always count on them to arrive ten to fifteen minutes prior to the start of any visitation. There’s no time but “their” time when it comes to schedules. Most of them will head out to dinner by four thirty, followed by Jeopardy! in their favorite recliner by six, and napping by six thirty. The elderly are as predictable as the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening.

  Though, as much as their early arrival used to bother me, I completely understand it on a personal level. If you’re not ten to fifteen minutes early, then you’re already late. It may drive my family crazy, my constant need to be on time, but that’s better than the alternative. Tardiness makes you sloppy, and sloppy leads to mistakes. Mistakes create chaos, and the thought of chaos in my life brings a cold sweat to my skin.

  “Good evening,” I greet to everyone as I open the main entrance door, shaking hands with those gentlemen who offer theirs. Some of them even feel the need to fill a few uncomfortable seconds with small talk before they step into line with the rest of those in attendance. Usually, it’s about the weather or something else as casual, but other times they try to ask me how the local high school football team is doing, or even how the fishing is this time of year. Things I have no interest in following.

  As the evening draws to a close and the visitors trickle down to only immediate family left in attendance, I make my way to the daughter and explain tomorrow’s schedule. “We’ll be set up at the church by eight thirty. The family should arrive by nine, with the one-hour visitation set for nine thirty to ten thirty. Then, we’ll have the pallbearers help move your loved one to the church chapel for the funeral service.”

  “Thank you so much, Samuel. I appreciate you taking care of Mom’s final wishes,” Debbie states, her eyes dry, yet tired and puffy.

  “We appreciate you trusting us with these details.”

  Debbie steps forward and places a warm hand on my cheek. “You’re such a good boy,” she says with a sad smile. I don’t scoff at her comment, even though I bristle a bit on the inside. I haven’t exactly been a boy in nearly two decades. Although, if I’m being honest, I never was a typical boy.

  I like things in order, even as a child. I enjoyed making sure lists were completed on a satisfactory level, even if they pertained to chores. My siblings never appreciated my obligation to following the rules, and even now, as adults, they find great pleasure in ruffling my feathers. I’ve also always felt a strong appreciation for proper dress. You’ve heard the phrase ‘Dress to impress,’ right? Well, I live by that rule. You never know who you’ll run into at the grocery store or at the dentist. In a small town, your next business referral could come at any moment, by anyone. Always put your best foot forward, and that includes your appearance.

  I’m the oldest of four. At thirty-six, I’ve been taking care of them since my teenage years. When our dad left following an affair, I readily stepped into his shoes as the man of the house. It was a role I filled easily, even if my siblings didn’t find it necessary at the time. Mom ran a bed and breakfast out of our home and her days, and most of her evenings, were filled with caring for others. That left me to make sure they were showered, transported to and from ball practices or club activities. Not to mention helping take care of the homestead.

  Harper is three years younger than me and owns a boutique in town. Kiss Me Goodnight carries unmentionables and other body care products, and despite the questionable product lines she sells, her business is doing well, and for that, I’m grateful. Harper lives with Latham Douglas, a gentleman she attended school with. They reunited following his extended stay in the service and have been living together for a few months now.

  Jensen is third in line at thirty-one years old. He’s a brilliant landscape architect, and despite the fact he always has dirt under his fingernail
s, I can appreciate the fact he works hard and has an eye for design. Jensen recently reunited with his former high school love and moved into her family’s estate at the edge of town. Jensen is also the father of my only nephew, Max, who recently turned five.

  Finally, there’s Marissa, my youngest sister. Since she was a small child, Marissa knew what she wanted to do with her life. Now, at twenty-nine, she is fulfilling that dream by assisting our mother with her bed and breakfast. She manages much of the day-to-day aspect of the business and particularly enjoys handling the cooking feature of owning one of the few bed and breakfasts in our small North Carolina town, Rockland Falls.

  “Are you ready, dear? Let’s get home and rest,” Stuart says, placing his hand on his wife’s back and gently guiding her toward the exit.

  “Yes, of course.”

  I meet the couple and their children at the exit, holding the door wide for them to pass through. “Oh, don’t forget, my Reiki healer will be here any minute,” Debbie adds, glancing at her watch. “She must be running a few minutes late.”

  My eye twitches at the thought, but I don’t let my irritation show. “No worries, Debbie, I’ll hang around a few more minutes until she arrives.”

  “Thank you, Samuel.”

  Then they’re gone, leaving me alone in the funeral home with her deceased mother. I check my watch and notice this individual is approaching fifteen minutes late, assuming she was instructed to arrive at the end of the visitation. I activate the door buzzer, which allows us to hear a noise every time the front door opens. This helps when we’re off somewhere within the building, we don’t always have to lock the door.

  Once I know I’ll be made aware of her arrival, I head to the family room. This is an area down the hallway where family can gather to take a break. We offer a television, comfortable seating, and mini-kitchen area. Most families will bring in food or have it delivered to the visitation. Tonight’s family cleaned up after themselves, so the only thing I need to do is take out the trash and wash down the table and counter. That job takes all of four minutes, and once it’s complete I head back to the front, turning off the lights as I go.