Page 99 of Look on the Bright Side

“Oscar was with her, too.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s…that’s nice.” He wiped his eyes. “You think you’re ready for this, but you’re really not, are you?”

“I don’t think anyone could be,” she said.

He nodded, sighing. “I guess I should call the kids.”

“Do you want me to straighten up the room?” she asked.

He nodded, patted her shoulder and pulled out his phone as he went into the living room.

Lark went back into the bedroom, tilted the hospital bed back and adjusted Nancy so she was a little straighter. Brushed her hair and wiped off her face with a warm, damp facecloth. Neatened the covers, found a bag in the corner and put all her medications in there. No need for the trappings of sickness. Nancy wasn’t sick anymore.

In the end, all medicine, all interventions fail. Lark knew that. And now she’d seen it up close, borne witness to it, had watched as death came in and quietly, kindly took Nancy away.

“Thank you,” she said, putting her hand on Nancy’s. “Thank you for the privilege.”

NINETEEN

ELLIE

“There. You’re gorgeous! Gerald will spit blood when he sees you.” Joy stepped back and squinted approvingly.

Ellie smiled. “Definitely what I’m going for. Thanks, Joy.” She studied herself in the mirror. She looked quite…lovely. Herself, but a little younger, maybe. “The last time I wore makeup was to Addie and Nicole’s wedding.” Would Gerald notice? She hadn’t seen him in three weeks, but tonight, they were meeting at the Wicked Oyster for dinner. Not on a date. For a conversation.

“My pleasure! You can raid my stash whenever you want. I’m doing a makeup session tomorrow at work for my activity.”

“Really?” Ellie asked.

“Mm-hmm. Just because you’re senile doesn’t mean you can’t look your best,” Joy said, and Ellie sputtered. “Maybe I shouldn’t say ‘senile,’ ” Joy amended. “Just because you’re at death’s door doesn’t mean you have to look that way. Better?”

“No.” Ellie laughed. “What about the men?”

“Men wear makeup, too.”

“True, true. So you like work?” Joy had been practically levitating the other day when she told Ellie about her job.

“Oh, I love it!” she said. “I feel so useful. We did chair dancing today. Joyful Movement, I’m calling it. Get it? Because of my name? I basically blast a playlist and they sit there and move whatever parts they still can. Florence fell dead asleep, and Bob almost toppled over, but at least he can still stand on his own. They practically rioted when ‘Uptown Funk’ came on.”

“That’s the best song.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Ellie’s phone rang. Unknown caller, but a 508 area code. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Elsbeth Smith?”

“Yes.”

“Hi! This is Anita Santini, Lorenzo’s mom.”

Ellie looked at Joy, then hit “speaker.” “Hi, Lorenzo’s mom. How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, gosh, you sure are a mother, aren’t you? Isn’t that always our first question? Everything’s great! I was just saying to my husband that we Santinis should meet the Smiths. Our kids have been dating for two months and we haven’t even gotten together yet. Are you free this weekend, by any chance?”

Oh, dear. “Um…you know, I think I am, personally,” she said, unable to lie. “Not sure about anyone else, though. Have you run this past, um, the kids?” She pulled a face at Joy.

Anita laughed. “Not yet. I figured we moms are really the ones in charge. I haven’t thought this through too much, but Lorenzo said he was off, which doesn’t happen that often, let me tell you, and Lark told Izzy she had Saturday free—Izzy’s my youngest—and anyway, whoever’s around could get together. I just feel like it’s time, don’t you?”

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