And there she was, in the rec room of an old-age home, where she was doomed to repeat forever the one thing she hadn’t been able to get right when it mattered.
Chad approached her, holding a plate with a piece of cake on it.
“You’d better get over there,” he said, motioning toward the buffet table with his plastic fork. “You wait any longer, there will be nothing left.”
Dana swallowed hard against the panic rising in her throat, and the clarity faded away, leaving a hollow coldness in its wake.
“You know what?” she said, gathering her train in one arm and whipping the veil off her head with the other. “I have a headache. Cramps. I think I’m coming down with something. A flu. Tell Milo for me, will you?”
Chad blinked. “Um. Okay. You gonna be all right?”
“Anything’s possible.” She grabbed her bag from behind the altar and hurried out of the room, oddly comforted by the familiarity of the swishing sound the dress made when she ran.
Two
Nick Maybe drummed his fingers against the bar at Murphy’s, the sound echoing across the polished wooden surfaces in the empty room. Despite having managed the place—and having lived in the apartment directly above it—for six years, he couldn’t get used to it in the daytime. At night, it was full of trendy Manhattanites who came for the wine tasting, the food, and the opportunity to show everyone that they were both willing and able to drop fifty bucks on a glass of wine. But at least then it was alive. During the day, it was just…
… lonely.
He tossed a disgruntled glance at the clock on the wall. Eleven wasn’t early for people with regular jobs, but considering his day didn’t start until five at night and often didn’t end until four in the morning, eleven might as well be the crack of dawn. Most people knew better than to call him before one.
Babs Wiley McGregor, however, wasn’t most people. She called whenever she felt like it, and when she did, it was usually for the same reason. Well, this time, Nick decided, it would be different. This time, he’d just say no and go back to bed. Then he’d do his last shift at Murphy’s, spend the next five days packing and getting rid of non-essentials. Then he’d hop his flight on Saturday, and that would be that.
This phase of his life would finally be over.
Nick pushed himself up from the bar and walked over to the espresso machine. Dealing with Babs at this time of day definitely called for him to be on his toes. He felt a twinge in his neck as he tamped the fine coffee grounds into the metal portafilter and craned his head to the side to work out the kink. It was way past time to get out of New York, way past time to get away from Babs Wiley McGregor and everything she represented.
Like, for instance, her daughter.
Dana.
A flash of her face shot through his memory. Chestnut curls catching fire in the sun. Freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Crisp blue eyes, somehow hot and cold at the same time. Full lips, smiling to reveal a wicked sense of humor and slightly crooked teeth.
And, of course, there was the view from the back, as she ran down the aisle of St. Christopher’s, leaving him holding a set of meaningless rings in front of a hundred and fifty of their closest.
Nick shook his head.
“Way past time,” he muttered.
There was a tap on the door. Nick glanced through the window and saw the outline of a woman he knew was Babs. Tall, thin, graceful. Clad in a white outfit with clean lines and wearing, if he wasn’t mistaken, a tremendous white hat with some sort of pink fluff sticking out of the top.
He situated two espresso cups beneath the filter and headed for the door.
“Morning, Babs,” he said. “Nice hat.”
“There was a man on the street outside who just told me I was a hottie,” she said, lifting up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek as she entered the bar. “He was buck-ass naked, so I didn’t respond, but I was flattered just the same. When you get to be my age, you take your compliments where you can get them.”
Nick laughed and shut the door behind her as she floated into the bar. She was skating over the back end of her fifties, and still she moved like a girl. Maybe not as quickly as she used to; she’d definitely slowed down some in recent years. But there was a weightlessness to her step, as though there wasn’t a worry in the world that could hold her down.
Unlike Dana, who worried about everything, who never took a risk, who held to the status quo like it was a damn life raft.
Let it go already, Maybe, Nick thought. Life’s too damn short.
“Whatever you’re here for, Babs,” Nick said as he rounded the bar and tended to the espresso, “the answer is no.”
She put her purse on one stool and settled herself on another. “Well, that’s rude.”
“Sorry. No time to be polite. Espresso?”
“Please,” she said. “And how do you know I was coming here to ask for something? Maybe I was just stopping by to spend some time with you before you abandon me for California.”
Nick chuckled as he placed the espresso in front of her. “And she comes out swinging.”
“I mean, is it so unreasonable that I would simply want to have a nice visit before you hop a flight and leave me forever?”
“I’m going to San Diego,” Nick said for what felt like the zillionth time, “not Siberia.”
“Oh, pooh.” Babs waved her hand dismissively and pouted. “I can’t imagine anything you can get in California that you can’t get right here in Manhattan.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Clean air. Ocean breezes. Personal space.” He shot her a grim smile. “How much time you got?”
Babs held her hand up. “No need. It’s all a bunch of poppycock, anyway.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Poppy-what?”
She placed her elbows on the bar and leaned forward, her face full of knowing accusation. “You can spout off all you want about clean ocean personal space
blah blah blah
. I know why you’re really going to California, and I don’t mind telling you, I think it’s just foolish.”
Nick rolled his eyes.
Here we go.
“I can put that espresso in a to-go cup, you know.”
“I still can’t believe you took a job working for Melanie Biggs,” she said, pointedly ignoring him. “The woman is the Antichrist, you know. That’s why she never wears her hair up.”
“What?”
Babs motioned toward the back of her head. “Mark of the beast, right there at the nape of her neck. I’ve seen it.”
“That’s a birthmark,” Nick said.
“In the shape of the three sixes?”
Nick heaved a rough sigh, knowing where the conversation was going and knowing also that once Babs got on a riff about Melanie Biggs, there was no stopping her.
“You know she just wants to take you from Dana.”
“Kinda hard to take me from someone I haven’t spoken to in six years.”
“She’s always had it in for Dana, ever since you all were in high school together. You’re the one thing she could never take away, and she’s obsessed. She always has been.”
“Is my hearing going, or did you just bring up high school?”
“A woman can hold a grudge for a very long time.”
“You don’t say,” Nick responded flatly.
“You can’t trust her to keep up her end of this bargain,” Babs continued. “We don’t know if that nonsense about taking over Dana’s winery is even true. It’s not exactly like Melanie has a history of telling the truth.”
“Drop it, Babs.”
“Remember when she told Dana you two had slept together after the wedding? Big fat lie.”
Nick grabbed a bar towel and clenched it in his fist. “Which Dana was quick to believe, as I recall.”
“Only because you let her believe it.”
“I was already out of town,” Nick said. “I didn’t even know what Melanie said until you told me about it. And why exactly are we having this conversation again?”
Babs tossed one arm up in the air dramatically. “Because apparently we need to. You seem to have entirely blotted out the Antichrist portion of the program.”
Nick started wiping down the bar, even though it was clean. “No, I got it. Hair down. Mark of the beast.”
“Did I mention the toads that fall out of the sky when she walks down the sidewalk?”
He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “Not today.”
“And this latest manipulation about taking over Dana’s winery is just nonsense. Dana hasn’t said anything to me about being in trouble.”
“Dana hasn’t said much to you about anything.”
Babs picked up her espresso cup and balanced it between the fingertips of each hand, but didn’t drink. Nick instantly regretted what he’d said. This was one of many reasons he didn’t like talking about Dana with Babs. Too many land mines, for both of them.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Babs sighed and put the cup down. “Not your fault. I know Dana and I aren’t exactly close. But still, if it were true—”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s true,” Nick said, cutting her off. “I didn’t accept the job just to keep Melanie away from Dana.”
Babs narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why?”
“It’s just time for me to move on,” he said abruptly, leaning back against the wall as the all-too-familiar guilt washed over him. He’d had enough of the guilt. Guilt over not listening to Dana closely enough before the wedding, not fully understanding her qualms about marriage, not giving her more time, not waiting for her to really be ready. Guilt over being so angry that he’d let Dana believe he’d slept with Melanie that night. Guilt that by the time he’d gotten over the anger, he’d been too much of a coward to go see her and tell her the truth. It was guilt that prompted him to spend six years looking after Babs in some subconscious attempt to make it up to Dana, and now that he knew it wasn’t ever going to be right, he had guilt over abandoning Babs. Now, he was so desperate to get it all behind him that he’d made a flimsy deal with Melanie Biggs just to get out. As noble as it might have seemed on the surface to accept the job in exchange for Melanie’s solemn vow to keep her mitts off Dana’s winery, the reality was, he wasn’t doing it to save Dana.
He was doing it to save himself.
“Well, of all the people to move on with,” Babs said after a thick silence, “I don’t see why it has to be
her.”
“It doesn’t have to be. It just is,” Nick said, suddenly operating under a strong desire to change the subject. “So, you gonna tell me why you called me or what?”
Babs’s mouth screwed up to the side in a small smile. “Like I said, I wanted to have a quality visit before you run off and—”
“Babs,” Nick said in a warning tone.
“Oh, fine,” Babs huffed. “I don’t mind telling you, Nick, you’re not as much fun as you used to be.”
“Probably because I’m not as stupid as I used to be,” Nick said, relieved finally to be moving the topic away from Melanie Biggs, although he was wary of what was coming next. “Now, out with it, lady.”
Babs opened her purse and began digging inside. “It’s my friend Vivian—”
Nick sighed. He knew it. “Another favor?”
Babs pulled out a piece of paper and smiled up at Nick. “She needs her bird picked up.”
“Then she can pick it up.”
“She needs you to get it at midnight, at this address.” She stuffed the paper into his hands. He glanced at the scribble, which indicated a ritzy neighborhood on the Upper East Side. He pushed the paper back at her.
“Can’t. Stuff to do. Thanks for stopping by. Don’t let the door hit you in your big fluffy hat on the way out.”
Babs ignored him with a bravado he had to respect, even if it drove him nuts.
“You’ll need to damage the windows,” she said. “Make a bit of a mess. It should look like a robbery.”
Nick watched her for a moment. “Christ, Babs. Where do you find these people?”
“They find me. They need me. I help them, and you help me.”
Nick shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m out of the favor game. I already told you. Whatever sticky situation your little society friends get into is not your problem, and it’s sure as hell not mine.”
“Come on, Nick,” she said, leaning forward and giving him puppy dog eyes. “It’ll be fun. You’ll be helping someone too crazy to help herself, and I’ll have something to do. I’m bored, Nick.”
“Take up knitting.”
“Oh, please. Old ladies knit.” She took a sip of her espresso, then daintily set the tiny cup back on the saucer and smiled up at Nick. “So, midnight then?”
“I said no, Babs. I have stuff to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” He searched his mind for an excuse. “Work. I have my shift tonight.”
“It’s your last day Surely you can leave early. That nice Grady is all trained and ready to take over for you.”
“I have to pack.”
“You have five days to pack.”
“Babs,” he said, leaning over the bar and looking her direct in the face so she’d know he meant it. “No.”
“How can you say no?”
“Easy. I think it, then I say it.
No.
See? Like that.”
“Oh, fine. Killjoy.” She picked up the piece of paper and glanced at it. “I’ll just have to do it myself then.”
Nick eyed her as she played innocent, reading the information on the paper.
“I know what you’re doing, Babs,” Nick said, “and it’s not going to work.”
“Oh?” She blinked at him innocently. “What am I doing?”
“Trying to manipulate me into stealing that bird.”
“Not
steal.
Pick
up.”
“Semantics. And I revisit my
no.”
Nick watched her for a moment suspiciously. “Why are you so insistent about this, anyway?”
“Because I’m so bored I could spit. Do you know I spent an entire evening last night watching reality television? It’s insupportable. And that stupid bachelor chose the absolute wrong girl.” Babs looked at him and sighed. “They’re fun, these favors. I like helping people solve their problems.”
“Babs…” Nick began, but she held up her hand.
“Nick, there are only so many charity benefit luncheons one can organize before one wants to chop off one’s own hand and stick it in a centerpiece. Now I came up with a solution for Vivian, but I need your help. It’ll just be this one last time.”