Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all characters, though if I could, I'd own Morelli. Ranger too.

Now that I had the whole day ahead of me, and Grandma Bella's vision running laps in my mind I had to get out of Joe's house. I grabbed Bob's leash, hooked him up and headed outside. We'd go to the park. After a lot of coaxing, and promises of pizza I finally got Bob in the bean. He crawled across the center console and into the back seat, lying down out of sight. Jeez. Even Bob was embarrassed of my car.

As we headed towards the park I realized something. I hate exercise. So I took a few back roads and changed directions, ending up parked in front of my parent's house. This was perfect. I could get Bob a treat, and get some for myself.

My Grandma Mazur was waiting at the front door when I pulled up. The idea of leaving the car had Bob so excited he almost got stuck trying to squeeze between the front seats. He bounded up the walk and shoved his nose in grandma's crotch when she opened the door, knocking her backwards.

"I once dated a man who greeted me the exact same way." She said as she pulled herself up off the floor. "He was a pip."

My father was gone for the day. He was retired from the post office and drove a cab now. Mostly that meant making a few runs in the morning and spending the rest of the day at the lodge, probably planning ways to dispose of grandma's body after he stabbed her to death with his dinner fork. My mother was in the kitchen ironing. To any normal person this would seem like a motherly thing, and nothing out of the ordinary. In the Plum household this was always a bad sign. Some people drink, or eat, or even weld when they are stressed out. My mother irons.

"Uh oh. She's ironing." I said as I helped myself to a slice of coffee cake.

"They're having a viewing at the funeral home today. Bernie Woodson is laid out and I have to go see him. You think they'll have an open casket? You know how I hate when they have the lid closed." Grandma was moving her uppers around in her mouth, once again, not a good sign.

In the burg funerals are like parties. We don't bother having all the neighbors over for barbecue, instead we all just meet up at the funeral home. Nothing says Saturday night like a casket and some box cookies.

"He was run over by a lawn mower, head first. I highly doubt they have the lid up. Not even Hollywood could fix his face."

"Drat. Oh well. Might as well go just in case. You never know. Those new guys that own the place are pretty darn good. You want to come along?"

"Yes she does." My mother looked up from her ironing and glared at me. I knew that look. That was the look that said 'you are going to go and watch your grandmother and if anything happens so help me god, there will be no cake ever again.'

"Sure. But I'll have to leave Bob here."

"Why don't you just take him home?" I wasn't sure if she meant my home or Bob's home. Or maybe she just assumed Bob and I had the same home now. After all, Morelli had been over for dinner so many times that by burg rules we were now married.

"Because I cleaned the whole place and I don't want him messing it up. Besides, Joe is working on a big case and he probably won't be home till tomorrow morning."

"He working on that serial killer?" Grandma's eyes were wide with excitement. The only thing the burg loved more than funerals was gossip. Most of the time when I was stuck on a case and needed help, I relied on the women of the burg to help me get information. "I heard all about it at the beauty parlor yesterday. Seems they are getting pretty close to catching him."

"I hope so." I sucked in some air, dreading what was about to happen. "Well I guess we should get going."

"Let me just run upstairs and change."

When my grandma left my mother stopped ironing and turned to me. Her eyes were pleading and I held my hands up.

"You don't have to say anything. I'll keep an eye on her. You really think I'd do anything to jeopardize my cake supply?"

A small smile formed on her face and then she was back to her shirt, which looked flat as a board. Grandma came back downstairs then, dressed in her mauve slacks and white short sleeve button up shirt. She had black patent leather slip on shoes and a matching purse that was bigger than she was. Grandma was known to carry concealed, claiming as an old person she had certain rights. I wasn't sure how that had anything to do with her age, but I let it go.

"You don't have a gun in that bag do you?"

"Who me?" She batted her eyelashes at me, which were thick with blue mascara.

"You know you aren't allowed to carry it in your purse, it's against the law."

"What law? I don't have to follow those laws. We senior citizens have our own set of laws. Besides, what if the serial killer is there? I need to be able to defend myself."

"First off we don't even know what he looks like. And second off he is targeting children." And I understood why. I'd caught several FTAs that were geriatric and I knew they didn't like to go along peacefully.

The funeral home wasn't far from the house. It was a white Victorian with green indoor-outdoor carpet on the large porch and a lot of renovations. Most of them were due to the fire that occurred soon after I got my new job. To say the fire was my fault would be to quote most of the town, but I knew from personal experience it only half was.

Also the business was under new management, again. Constantine Stiva used to run the place, but he is now in jail, thanks fully in part to me. After that a young gay couple bought the place, but thanks fully in part to Grandma Mazur and her coffin opening hijinks they have since moved on. Since then three other people have tried to run the business, but grandma has successfully driven them out. Maybe the US government should hire her. She'd be more helpful in war than any army.

The new owners were brothers. Both were short and squat with balding heads and ample ear hair. They were most likely in their late fifties, with strong North Jersey accents. Rumor around town was they were former mob bosses, and for their sake I hoped it was true. We made our way into slumber room three, through a large crowd of people. The whole senior center was there, as well as most of the burg. I held tightly to grandma's purse strap, determined not to lose her like I always did.

Okay, so maybe half the time I lost her on purpose. But some of these funeral directors needed to learn to be more prepared. If they couldn't handle grandma, they had no business running our funeral parlor. As we made our way up to the coffin we were intercepted by the brothers.

"Good evening. I'm Ronny, and this is my brother Andy." They both extended their hands to shake ours. "You must be Mrs. Mazur. We've heard so much about you."

"Oh yeah? Well it is all vicious lies."

"Is it? Such a shame, because we were willing to make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Grandma was moving her uppers around again.

"We would very much like to keep this job, and we foresee a lot of, shall we say stress, in the future from our encounters. What we offer is simple. No more coffin opening."

"What kind of a deal is that? You want me to do something and I don't even get anything from it." She looked antsy; her eyes were straying towards the closed lid, longing to pry it open. In the past she'd make up excuses for why the lid flew up, but recently she had either run out of things to say, or just didn't care. Grandma thought it was her right to see the deceased. After all, she did come all the way here, so they owed her.

"Here is the deal, you don't pull any more lids open and instead you go around and tell everyone how wonderful our services are. Drum us up some business." Ronny was doing all the talking. Andy looked as though he didn't have a brain in his head too talk.

"And in return?"

"In return we will let you see into all the coffins you want. After hours that is. Closed coffins are often closed for a reason, and we don't want everyone seeing in them."

Grandma's eyes lit up like a bulb on a Christmas tree. She steadied herself and tried to act nonchalant. "Hmm. I guess that could work. Deal."

"Great." Both men blew out a collective sigh and I could see the sweat forming on their heads.

"Well it was great to meet you both, but we really should go pay our respects now." I pushed grandma forward, ready to get on with the day.

"Don't that beat all? I feel like some kind of royalty now. I can't wait to tell the girls at the salon tomorrow."

"I don't think you're supposed to tell anyone about the deal."

"Really? They never said anything."

"I'm pretty sure that it was assumed you wouldn't. I mean this is supposed to be a secret deal. If it wasn't then they would let you look at the body right now."

"Maybe you're right. Good thing I'm so good at keeping secrets.

Ugh. Mental head slap. Grandma was horrible at keeping secrets. My phone rang then and I felt secure enough to leave grandma behind. I stepped outside and looked at the screen. Morelli.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not gonna be home until about four in the morning again. Do you mind taking care of Bob? You can just stay at my place if you want."

"Sure."

"Sure you'll take care of Bob, or sure you'll stay at my place?"

"Both." Crap.

He hung up and I bit my lip. Okay, so maybe Grandma Bella's vision was getting to me. It was stupid to believe it, but at the same time, it didn't seem so far fetched. Morelli and I both knew that we had problems, the main one being commitment. Most of the time I would live with him for a couple months before we got in a fight over what kind of beer to buy and I slammed the door and went home. Deep down we both knew the problem was our jobs. He hated my job, hell I hated my job, but I wasn't about to admit that to him. I hated his job too, mostly because he felt the need to keep things from me because of it.

I took grandma home and decided since I was here I might as well stick around for dinner. We added an extra setting to the table and sat down just as the pot roast was coming out of the oven. Most days I was late, which in turn ruined the roast. I never understood how that worked. Why couldn't the roast be taken out whether everyone was here or not? It was some age-old burg cooking rule that I had never learned. Along with how to cook.

When dinner was over I took a bag full of leftovers and half a pineapple upside down cake. Getting Bob in the car was much easier with actual food in hand. He sat on the back seat, gnawing on a piece of pot roast as we headed back to Morelli's. Morelli and I were both children of the burg, but have since moved out. His house is closer to home, and more like a home. When his Aunt Rose died she left him the house, which at first I found odd, but over time has seemed to suit him. Joe's things have replaced most of Aunt Rose's, but her curtains still hang in the windows and it makes the house feel more homey.

I snuggled up on the couch with my second helping of cake and turned the TV on. Before I knew it I was asleep and it was dark outside. Bob was at my feet, whining, so I walked him into the kitchen and opened the back door. After a few minutes of sniffing and marking he came back inside and raced upstairs. Bedtime. Slipping out of my clothes I pulled on one of Morelli's oversized shirts and slid under the covers. Bob jumped up into bed next to me and we both drifted off.

I woke up to the sun streaming in, an arm under my shirt and a hand securely suctioned onto my boob. As I stirred the grip tightened and Joe pulled himself closer to me.

"Ouch. Do you have to poke me in the back so early in the morning?" I tried to pull away but it was no use, he had me in his death grip and wasn't letting go.

"This is your wake up call."

"Well I'm awake. Guess that means time to leave."

"Not so fast. Who cleaned the house?"

"Who do you think cleaned the house?"

"Hmm. Looks like I'm turning you into a housewife after all."

"Housewife my ass. That was a goodbye gesture." His grip loosened and I sat up.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're Grandma Bella came over yesterday."

"Oh great." He sat up too. Pushing his hair off his face.

"She had another vision."

"And you believed her?"

"What if I did?" I crossed my arms like a kid again, glaring over at him.

"Let me just ask, have any of the visions she's had about you ever come true?"

"Well," I thought about it, and he was right, but that didn't mean anything. Grandma Bella had a vision I was pregnant, one where I died, which later she told us I was also old in the vision, and one where I took a job with the circus. That one I thought she just made up to be mean, but when I thought about the clown car I was driving it didn't seem so far fetched. "That is beside the point."

"And what was this vision?" Joe was always Grandma Bella's favorite, but that didn't mean she was his. He never believed in the visions, or the eye, at least that is what he said, but I wasn't so sure he really meant it.

"She had a vision you were married."

"And you're leaving because you don't want to get married?"

"That's not the reason I'm leaving. I'm leaving because you were married to someone other than me!"

"You don't want to marry me!" He was yelling. I was yelling. Here came the fight.

"You don't want to marry me either! Obviously you want to marry someone else!"

"Look." He took a breath now, calming himself. He didn't want to fight, but that didn't mean I didn't want to. "I'm not marrying anyone right now. Not you, not anyone else. In fact, if I don't find this killer, I may not be living much longer because the boss will gut me. I don't want to fight, okay?"

"Fine." I really didn't want to either. Besides, the last time Grandma Bella had a vision about Joe and another woman having kids together it turned out she'd mixed him up with another guy. Maybe that happened here too.

"Now, I'm gonna shower and have some coffee and leftover cake." He leaned over and kissed just below my ear, making me tingle all over. "And I wouldn't be opposed to being a little late for work this morning."

"How late were you thinking?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"On how many pieces of cake you want."

Joe left in his usual fashion. A kiss for me, a head pat for Bob, another kiss for me. Once he was gone I left for home so I could get ready. After I'd showered, added two inches of height with my hair, three inches with my shoes, and an extra layer of mascara I put on my black skirt and one of the stretchy black V neck shirts and left. It was a few minutes before twelve when I pulled into the mall parking lot. I'd eaten the last of the leftovers for breakfast and helped myself to another piece of cake before I left my apartment.

Barbie was behind the register when I got to Victoria's Secret, filling out some forms and staring at a computer screen. Each of the girls working looked the same. All of them were around my height, but had a good three inches on me because they were much better with a can of hair spray. Barbie was wearing bright pink lipstick and nail polish, and a matching shirt under her jacket. I didn't have a jacket.

"I didn't know if I needed a jacket or not. I don't really own one right now." I said as she made her way over to me.

"Don't worry about it right now. Let's just get you started."

She took me around and showed me the different rooms in the store and explained what each one held. All the times I'd been here I never even realized the way the store was set up. She put me to work right away, going through all the drawers and making sure the underwear was folded right and the bras were stacked just so. This is what I would be doing for the rest of the day, which would only be a few more hours. Every time I got a drawer done, someone would come along and look through it, messing everything up again.

I'd been there for five hours and my feet were killing me. Next time I'd wear shoes with less of a heel. Barbie came over and told me I could go and that tomorrow I should come in at the same time and she'd teach me how to work the dressing rooms before I worked on drawers again. The work was boring and frustrating. I mean, how hard is it to put underwear back the way you found it? That made me think back to all the times I'd shopped there and had just thrown things around. It also made me wonder what the suicide rate was for panty folders.

Driving home I was on autopilot so it surprised me when I pulled up in front of Morelli's. It must have been the pull of cable that worked and Bob. I got out, used my key to get in and stepped aside as Bob raced out the door and onto the dried up yard. He found his favorite yellow patch of grass, pulled a leg up and exhaled with relief. When I got inside I looked around. No food. I pulled out my phone and called Joe.

"What?" His tone was short and I brushed it off, it was the case, not me.

"I just wanted to see if you'd eaten already, or needed me to bring you something."

"Oh. The guys and I just ordered Pino's. But thanks."

"Sure. What did you get?"

"Meatball subs."

"Bob heard that, and he's drooling on the couch now."

"I'm sure Bob's not the only one drooling."

"True."

"I'll call in an order for you two. Do you want it delivered or do you wanna pick it up?"

"Delivered."

"Alright. You staying over again?"

"Sure. I just need to go grab Rex and some clothes."

"I love you."

"I L-l-like you." Shit.

He laughed and hung up. Well dinner was taken care of, now to just work on my stutter problem. I knew I loved Morelli, that wasn't the problem. Actually I'd known it for a while, and he knew it too. The problem was telling Morelli. I'd actually been able to say it once, but that was about it. The thing was when I said it, it was right after one of the scariest moments in my life, a moment when I thought I was going to lose him forever. So at the time saying I love you didn't seem like such a big deal compared to what could have happened. But when I was sitting on his couch having just handled underwear all day, it didn't seem so easy to say.

I went upstairs and found a pair of sweatpants to pull on. Tossed my shoes and skirt in the corner of the room and climbed onto the couch. There was a game on, a few re-runs of Friends and a made-for-TV movie. I settled on the game and waited for my food to arrive. Maybe after it got here I'd call him back and be able to say it. Could just be that I needed to do it on a full stomach. That probably wasn't true, but who knows. After all, food is a pretty powerful thing.

A/N

Thanks again to my beta-ing mother, who ever time I call says "I was just working on your story." Which is either ESP, or a sign she has to do a lot of work.

As always thanks to all who have read, reviewed, liked, and all that mumbo jumbo.

I must say that I was a little late and JUST finished reading 16. But as always it was amazing.

To the babe girls, keep holding out, I promise he is coming, and WILL be worth the wait. =]