Page 46 of Look on the Bright Side

Of course, Abe gave Joy a generous settlement, including the town house, but it wasn’t the same. A devastated Paulie moved to the second floor because it was too painful to stay in the home he’d shared with the man he loved. Within a month of their divorce, the New York Times Vows section informed them that Abdul married a Muslim girl twenty years his junior. A year later, they had a son.

“Guess he got what he wanted,” Paulie said bitterly.

His light dimmed without Abe. He tried, going on mindfulness kicks, talking about purpose and gratitude, but Joy could see the truth. He was a whisper of the man he’d once been. That was what love did to you. It ruined you. Once upon a time, she’d loved her parents, and all they’d given back was anger, resentment and disappointment. She’d used Frankie O’Dell without a thought to his feelings, breaking his heart, maybe. She’d loved Abdul as a cherished friend, but he blocked her number the day he made his announcement. Paulie’s, too.

Love was…what was the word? When something eats away and destroys something? Corrosive. That’s what it was.

The only person she was sure she loved was her brother.

Then, one summer day, Joy was walking home with a pair of shoes she’d probably never wear, and a strange number came up on her phone. She answered, her hands tingling with premonition.

“Hello, I’m looking for Joy Deveaux,” said a deep voice.

“Speaking,” she said.

“My name is Ralph Colchek, Ms.Deveaux. I’m a chaplain at Mount Sinai Hospital. I’m afraid I have some very bad news.”

Suddenly, Joy was sitting on the gritty sidewalk, tearing her hair, extensions coming out by the fistful, rocking back and forth as she wailed. Just like that, the deep voice at the end of the phone shattered her life.

Paulie had been riding in a cab on his way uptown. A crane toppled off a building and crushed the car he was in. The driver was unharmed; Paulie died instantly, and with him went Joy’s whole world.

She gave him the send-off he deserved with a Michelin-starred chef making all his favorite foods, a live band, disco ball, a fog machine, huge flower arrangements and balloons. There were eleven speeches that she counted—she wasn’t able to talk herself, since her throat was locked tight. More than four hundred people came (though not Mama). Even Abe came, sobbing as he hugged her. He had five children now. Paulie was toasted repeatedly, and Joy drank and drank and ate and cried. Paulie’s friends were wonderful, said how much Paulie had loved her, reassured her that they were here for her.

But they weren’t. Or they tried, maybe, but it didn’t touch her gaping fear and aching loneliness. Hence the house on the Cape. It would be different, at least. It wouldn’t be soaked with reminders that she had once been Paulie’s sister, and without that title, she wasn’t anything anymore.

Maybe Paulie had sent her Lark. He would have loved Connery. And now Ellie was due in just fifteen more minutes.

Judging by Ellie’s shaky voice, Joy had the feeling that once again, she was needed.

NINE

LARK

“Hi, Lark!” said Chloe as she and Lorenzo went into the Naked Oyster. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Chloe! How are you? How’s your garden doing?”

“Great. Loving this sunshine. Thanks again for stopping by with those tulips a few weeks ago. That was the nicest.”

Behind her, Lorenzo growled.

“Do you have a reservation for Dr.Satan?” Lark asked innocently.

“Come this way, please, Dr.Santini, Lark.” Chloe grabbed the plethora of menus and led them to the same table they’d sat at the first time.

“I guess this is our place now, huh?” Lark said as she sat down.

“Brian will be right over,” Chloe said. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Send Brian over now,” Lorenzo said. “I don’t have time to waste.”

“Tell Brian I’ll protect him,” Lark added. “Lorenzo, you seriously have the worst manners. Didn’t your mother or Noni teach you better than that?”

“They did not.”

“Well, allow me. We say please, and thank you, and excuse me. It shows people you respect them.”

“Why would I respect a waiter or some twit who passes out menus?”

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