Page 70 of Ten Christmases Without You
“I haven’t even had a moment to consider that.”
“It’s astonishing. And you didn’t even get to see your designs on the runway, did you?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter.”
Madison frowned. “It would’ve been nice to celebrate your hard work.”
“Mitch said one of my designs got a standing ovation. That news is good enough, considering the circumstances.”
Madison’s mouth hung open. “Oh my gosh! Emmy! That’s incredible.”
“It’s funny, my life cruised along with no major turns one way or another and then the minute I have one of the greatest highs, it’s met with this inconceivable low. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, Mom’s illness taught us many years ago that life isn’t fair.”
They both sipped their coffees in that unifying quiet that they’d managed for so many years.
“Speaking of your job, you haven’t mentioned anything about Mom. Has Mr. Augustine said anything more about her?” Madison asked, always the first to break the silence.
Emmy shook her head. “Workdays are so chaotic and exhausting that we don’t have time to talk, really. But there is one thing I haven’t had a chance to tell you.”
“What?”
“Earlier in the year, I took Mom’s clutch, and he recognized it.”
“Really?”
“Not only that, he was the one who bought it for her.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And I’m pretty sure the note was from him too, although I never got a chance to ask him, and even if I could, he isn’t terribly forthcoming about that time in his life. By his uneasy response, I’m wondering if something awful happened to his fiancée.” She gripped her mug. “But I do wonder what the note was about. I checked online and there’s nothing on that street at all. It’s a side street.”
“He and Mom were friends; it would be easy for him to send a note over to meet up for something. Maybe the note was to give her the clutch, and after he gave it to her, she shoved the paper in there and forgot to throw it away.”
“Yeah, probably. I asked Vivienne if she knew anything, but her answer didn’t make much sense.” Emmy shrugged. “She said the only thing on that street was rain. I don’t get it.”
“I doubt the note is anything at all. Just trash.” Madison twisted toward her. “Speaking of Mom’s former life, when Dad moved in with me, he brought one of her sketchbooks he found. She’d shoved it way in the back of the closet, apparently. He was going to bring it to you.”
She got up and went upstairs, returning with the large sketchbook. She handed it to Emmy.
“It’s full of drawings and notes. Dad and I looked at the first few pages, but none of her jottings made any sense to us non-fashion people.”
Emmy pulled the book toward her. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Dad.”
“I plan to. I’m willing him to get better. And I’ve prayed, so here’s hoping God’s on our side with this one.”
Madison gave her a look of solidarity. “Wanna get ready and be there right at eight—just the two of us?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t wait to get to her father.
“Oh,I’m glad you two are here,” a nurse said from the hallway nurses’ station when Emmy and Madison got back to their father’s door. “I just gave him his round of medication, so he’s going to get sleepy, but he’s awake.”
Emmy gasped and looked happily at her sister.
“Come inside.” The nurse beckoned them into the room.
