Page 57 of Cruel Fate

We drink hot chocolate before we go. The breeze has turned cool, and it feels good after the heat of the afternoon.

Sitting on a picnic table bench, I take a couple selfies of us—I never want to forget this day. We’ll be all over the online gossip sites, but taking my own photos is more intimate...andsomething I never thought to do with the other women who have passed through my life.

Stella hugs a pumpkin in her lap, and I take her picture.

When she’s not looking, I save it as my lockscreen photo on my phone.

We drain our cups, the last swallow nothing but chocolate sludge.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks.

I am, but I don’t want the day to end. I don’t want to go home alone.

Zarah’s spending obscene amounts of time with Ash. I’m happy for her, but she’s out the door in the morning before I’m even awake, or she leaves while I’m in the shower, and she doesn’t come home until I’m in bed.

I would worry about her working so hard, but this is Ash we’re talking about and I suspect there’s quite a bit of pleasure mixed into the business.

“Yeah,” I say, but the magic of the afternoon is fading, and a hollow feeling fills my stomach.

She throws our paper cups away. “Are you okay?” she asks, touching my arm.

“Yeah, sure.” I force a smile. There’s nothing wrong. Technically.

“Okay.”

We trudge back to the bus stop. She carries the smaller pumpkin, her trench coat, and the plastic bag that holds our sparkly gourds. I carry the larger one, and I swear, every step it grows heavier by the pound.

Stella tamps down a grin.

“Go ahead and say it,” I grumble, shifting on my feet. No point in sitting. The bus is coming, though it’s still a few blocks away yet.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she says, tongue-in-cheek, and she turns her head to hide a laugh.

On the bus, we sit on the bench in the back setting our pumpkins next to us. I sit on the train, too, guarding our pumpkins between my feet while Stella and an old man stand and chat about pumpkin patches. I remember we could have picked apples, and it’s probably a good thing we didn’t. Maybe I’ll ask her if she wants to go back. I can drive next time, and I’ll ask Lucille if she’ll bake an apple pie.

Stella follows me off the train cradling her pumpkin to her chest, and she carries it to my building, hefting it in her arms and playfully complaining the entire way.

The stress of this morning hits me as I key in the security code to the private lift. The doors slide open, and the scent of beef meets my nose. Lucille’s cooking.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” I ask Stella hopefully as she follows me into the living room. I set my pumpkin on the coffee table and shake out my arms. “Please?”

Undecided, she bites her lower lip. This has been a perfect afternoon, and I don’t want it to end.

“Okay,” she finally agrees and unzips her boots.

We bring the pumpkins into the kitchen for Lucille to admire, and she clucks over them, shakes Stella’s hand, and clucks over her, too.

I ask about Zarah, but Lucille hasn’t seen her.

Stella frowns. She opens her mouth, but Lucille offers us something cold to drink and she answers the housekeeper’s question instead. We keep Lucille company in the kitchen, and she hasn’t been this animated since my parents passed away. I know she’s happy I’m finally coming around, and she can’t stop fussing over Stella.

We eat dinner at the small table in the kitchen, and afterward, Lucille shoos us into the living room giving me atray that holds a carafe of coffee and raspberry tarts that have mountains of whipped cream on top for dessert. Stella sits next to me on the sofa, sinking into the cushion and closing her eyes. She’s gorgeous, and her nose is pink from spending all afternoon in the sun.

I sip my coffee. “How did you know I needed that?”

“I heard you crying. At first, I couldn’t. I thought I heard, well, I don’t know, but I put my ear to your door. I know I shouldn’t have, but I hated the sound. You’re so strong, and the sound...” She looks away.

“Well, thank you. Can you believe I’ve never been to a pumpkin patch?”

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