Page 30 of Look on the Bright Side

“Good! Actually really good.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I like it here, too. What are you up to for the rest of the day, chica?”

“Dinner with friends.”

“Nice. Have fun, honey. I gotta get in there.”

It would not be fun. As if on cue, her phone dinged. She had a slew of texts she hadn’t yet looked at, but this one was from Justin’s mom.

Are you still free for dinner tonight? Heather asked.

Yes, of course. What time?

Five o’clock at the cemetery?

See you then. Love you, Heather.

She looked at her other texts, which always poured in on this date.

There were six photos from Addie of Esme and Imogen eating breakfast. Try to be happy just for a few minutes today, the text read. Love you.

A picture from Harlow, too—her dog, Ollie, looking at a seagull, being adorable.

Thinking of you today, sweetheart. Love you.

Winnie, Robbie and Dad had also texted. Last night, just before she’d left for the hospital, she saw that Mom had left a mason jar of peonies and a loaf of rhubarb bread on her steps with the simple note I love you.

She listened to a voice mail from Grandpop. “Hello there, young Lark, it’s your grandfather speaking. I know this is a sad day, my dear. I think Justin would be very proud of you. I know I am.”

Tears rushed to her eyes. Grandpop always knew what to say. He was perfect. She texted back and said she was doing okay and reminded him that she was cooking him dinner on Saturday. What did she have to do until five? Nap, hopefully. Shower. Pick some flowers.

One more text…Lorenzo. It was a link. Nothing else. She clicked, and there was a stunning halter dress in a deep, luscious pink. Silk with a low back, crisscross rhinestone straps, slit on one side…super sexy, but also really sophisticated. From the front, it was just a lovely dress, not formfitting, but from the back, it was a fuck-me dress in the best possible way. She scrolled lower to see the cost. Sweet baby Jesus, $2,000!

Three dots showed that Lorenzo was typing something.

Another link, this time to shoes in same shade of pink, but metallic. Three-inch heels. Eight hundred fifty dollars. And one more link…a beaded clutch bag. Frickin’ gorgeous.

I see you have a great interest in women’s fashion, she typed.

I don’t want you to look poor and out of place was his response.

“What a kind thought,” she grumbled, then typed, It’s your money.

I’m well aware.

She sighed. Can we meet? I have questions and we should get to know each other a little more.

There was a long pause. No waving dots. With a sigh, she walked out of the locker room, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Lark?” Luis said, standing up at the nurses’ station. “Good, you’re still here. We have a code, two minutes out. Patient is elderly, no advance directives, so it’s all hands on deck.”

“Okay. Thanks, Luis.”

Tonight, Naked Oyster, 7:30 p.m.

Apparently, the Naked Oyster was going to be their place. I have plans tonight. Sorry.

Then why didn’t you say so? Tomorrow, same time. Don’t be late.

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