Page 83

“Um, the truth?”

Max finally takes the drink, swallows, then says, “You know, a little bit of both, but more of the second. That’s when Shae showed up.”

“What? What happened?”

“Not a thing. They talked, Shae went to hang out with her minions, Audrey left the bar, and I met a gorgeous redhead.” The last little bit elicits a huge grin.

This is the only firsthand information I’ve gotten from anyone about Audrey since Christmas and I am desperate for more. What was she wearing? Was her hair still short or had it gotten longer? What did she smell like?

OK, that last one is admittedly weird. I can’t ask any of the questions, unless I want to be outed as a liar about how great I am.

My doorbell rings, startling us both.

“Expecting someone?” Max says.

“Only you.”

The moment before I open the door a small hope that it’s Audrey flits through my heart. I try not to show my disappointment when Greta stands in the hall, a smile on her face, and an enormous plant in her arms.

“Happy housewarming.”

My sister is here. Bringing me a plant. Smiling at me. Honestly, it’s better than if it was Audrey.

Well, almost better. It’s pretty fucking great considering five months ago we barely tolerated each other.

“Greta, hey. Here, let me take that.”

“Thanks. I thought I was in pretty good shape but carrying that up three flights of stairs made me realize I need to up the resistance on my climbing machine.”

“Or, you could come hiking with me one weekend.”

“Oh, hey, Max,” Greta says.

“Hey, Greta,” Max says, and manages not to drool all over my new couch. “Wanna beer?”

“Sure, but I can get it.” Greta puts her purse down and goes into the kitchen. “Today your day off?”

I stand in the middle of the room, holding the plant and looking around wondering where to put it. Greta sees me and points. “Over by the window, Toni.”

I follow her instructions because, as much as I love trees in nature, I’ve never been able to keep a plant alive. I decide to not tell Greta that, put the plant down, and turn it so that the bushy part faces the room.

The three of us chat for a bit, Greta sitting in the corner of my new couch with her shoes off and her legs pulled up underneath her, angled toward Max and talking about business and the opening last night. I sit on the matching chair (I know, so bougie), watch them, and wish Audrey and Willa were here, too.

I’ve not only been grieving the loss of Audrey, but the loss of the four of us, the friendship we’d built over the weeks we worked together. It was amazing how easily we all got along, how our personalities meshed and complemented each other. There was never a lull in our conversations, and no one dominated. It had pulled Greta out of the shell she’d created over the years to protect her from the stress and anxiety of being in charge. At least, that’s how I think of Business Greta, especially when I see her like this, relaxed and comfortable and engaged.

“I better go,” Max says. She stands and stretches her arms over her head, her shirt riding up and showing the pale skin of her stomach, with an enormous hickey next to the navel. My eyes go wide, and I look at Greta to see if she noticed. She’s looking at the plant by the window, completely uninterested in Max’s little display. Max looks a little disappointed, which means she did that for Greta’s benefit. Poor Max. She’s never gonna give up, I guess.

I walk my friend to the door and as soon as the door closes behind her, Greta says, “Toni, it’s time.”

“For another beer?” I ask.

“For you to come back into the office.”

“No. I’m not ready.”

“You’re mistaking this for a suggestion. This is your boss telling you that you need to be at the office at nine a.m. tomorrow morning for the staff meeting. And be ready to give everyone an update on what you’ve been doing for the last two months.”

“Greta, I?—”