Page 31 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Again,” says Alistair in a lighter tone.

She laughs. “Again. I don’t know how many times that is now. Just as well—I can’t be bothered to contact my solicitor and make any actual changes.”

“Phew,” says her son with a small smile. His gaze lingers on me as he sips his scotch. Then, out of nowhere, a sly sort of smile appears on his lips. “Actually, Mother,” he says. “You asked what Lilah drinks? I just remembered, she mentioned wanting to try absinthe. It’s another item on her list.”

Lady Helena bursts out of her seat. “What a wonderful idea!”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m putting my foot down,” says Dougal, who does indeed put his foot down. “The last time you opened a bottle of that stuff, you rang you-know-who and told him to kiss your ass.”

“That was years ago, and he deserved it. You know he did.” Lady Helena sweeps over to the bar and reaches for the top shelf. Several sparkling diamond bracelets slide up her arm as she stretches and strains. “I won’t be the one drinking it, anyway. It’s for Lilah. Alistair. Darling. Please help. I’ll need the fountain too if we’re to do this properly. I think it’s on the bottom shelf of the cupboard here.”

Alistair rises to his feet. “Coming, Mother.”

“Well—” Dougal sighs heavily “—I hope you have a stout constitution, lass.”

“Me too,” I say, with no small amount of fear.

“Your mother is a creature of pure chaos.”

“You’re not wrong,” says Alistair. “Are you sure you don’t need ibuprofen or something for your neck?”

“I’m fine.”

Malibu is magic. It reminds me of hanging out at the beach when I was younger. The sun is setting, and the play of colors across the sky is sublime—hues of orange and terra-cotta fade to peach and pink before melting into lavender and mauve. There’s something soothing about watching the water. Having an unimpeded view of this dreamlike vista from Helena’s living room. And yet my sigh is the heaviest known to womankind.

Alistair’s face is blank. The same as it’s been for the last hour. “What was that for?”

“The burden of big thoughts.”

“Such as?”

I do my best to gather said thoughts into a straight line. It doesn’t work. “Please take into consideration that there’s a small chance I am somewhat inebriated.”

“You don’t say,” he replies in a dry tone.

“You also make me nervous, so don’t expect this to be eloquent.”

He frowns. “I make you nervous?”

I just shrug.

“Why would I make you nervous?”

“Hush. I’m talking now,” I say, moving right along. “You see, this whole situation with the predictions has been making me take stock. I always thought I would travel and do all the kinds of things that are on my list. But then routine takes over, and it’s all work and bills. I want to try to live with joy and notice the little things.”

“It’s a nice idea,” he says.

“I am going to try to be more present and live in a more... Shit. What’s the word? What kind of manner?”

“Mindful?”

“Yes! Thank you. Live in a more mindful manner.”

There’s definite amusement in his gaze. “Good work.”

“You’re mocking me because I’m under the influence, but I don’t care.” I am almost finished with my second glass of the green-colored cocktail Helena made me. It tastes of aniseed, apple juice, lime, and mint. And is poured from an ornate antique glass-and-silver fountain, which is basically an orb full of booze on a stand with a little tap on the front. “My lips are numb, and my head is light.”

“I told you to go easy. Absinthe is strong.”

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