Page 35 of Last Call (Open Tab #5)

Barb picked up the coffee cup from the holder and took a grateful sip.

Why had she agreed to drive four kids three hours to summer camp in New Hampshire, only to turn right around for a four-year-old’s birthday party?

She’d gotten up at five, spent an hour coaxing Summer and Emily out of bed, packed the car, picked up their friends, crammed more gear into the trunk, and endured a full-scale Taylor Swift and Beyoncé sing-along.

At least the steady beat of the stereo—and the kids’ off-key singing had kept her awake.

What she wanted was to drive straight home, crawl into bed, and sleep for the rest of the day. But she’d promised Fallon she’d be there for Owen’s birthday. She’d missed enough family gatherings.

For months, Barb had let Ida or Beth take Emily and Summer to events.

It wasn’t that she wanted to avoid Fallon.

She just needed time. Time to accept what her life had become and make peace with the losses.

Everyone else seemed to be moving forward—or at least not standing still in the shadow of Liv’s wreckage.

She wanted that too. She still wasn’t sure how to carry her questions and sadness while tending to the jagged grief of two little girls who still cried at night for the mother they couldn’t understand losing.

Letting the girls be with their family helped.

Letting herself not be with anyone helped, too.

But Barb was tired of being alone. When she had time to think, she realized she’d felt alone far longer than since the day she left Liv or even the day Liv died.

That loneliness didn’t stop her from missing Olivia Nolan—or loving her.

Maybe she always would. Maybe she’d never love anyone else again.

Barb wasn’t sure she wanted to take that kind of risk.

Working at the university had been a reset.

It was a place to meet people who didn’t know Olivia.

It was refreshing to have a cup of coffee with someone who didn’t want to play twenty questions or tiptoe around loss.

There was something grounding about being around people who did know her, people who knew her story, her kids—the mess of it all.

Finding balance wasn’t easy. She’d tipped the scale too far away from the people who had known her the longest. It was time to center it again.

The car lurched. Barb frowned and pressed the accelerator. Nothing. The engine stuttered, then dropped into a strained, sluggish hum. The dash lit up: Check Engine, Transmission Fault, and something else she couldn’t read without her glasses.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered, glancing at the clock. Still twenty minutes from home.

She pressed the gas again. The engine offered a whine but no power. She recognized it for what it was—death.

“Dammit.”

Barb flicked on her hazard lights and guided the car toward the shoulder, praying the slope wasn’t too steep and she’d have enough momentum to coast. The car crept along the edge of the road, stubborn and fading, until it finally rolled to a stop next to a faded green mile marker and a dented reflector post. She exhaled and gripped the wheel.

There was nothing but open road and empty fields ahead.

“Perfect,” she said aloud, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.

She stayed like that for a moment. Here she was, alone and stranded again, the sun warm through the windshield, her coffee now lukewarm in the cupholder, and her mind already racing through the logistics of getting to Owen’s party.

She guessed Pete would be at Owen’s party by now.

She pulled out her AAA card and dialed the number.

“This sucks.”

“I thought Barb was coming?” Billie asked Fallon.

“She is,” Fallon said. “She dropped the girls off at summer camp this morning. We’ll see how that goes.”

“That was today?”

Fallon nodded.

“She asked me what I thought about it,” Billie said. “I told her to pack extra bug spray and invest in a gallon of Calamine lotion.”

Fallon laughed. “I’ll bet you anything they won’t want to go back next year.”

“Or maybe they’ll love it,” Billie offered.

Fallon snorted. She’d gone to a similar camp once. Once was enough. She loved the outdoors—all things outdoors—but there was a reason she spent more time in the woods during winter than summer: bugs. Specifically, biting ones. “Evil, munching little fuckers,” she always called them.

She rarely wore short sleeves or shorts when she hiked, even in August. Bug spray and sunscreen were her summer staples. She’d rather sweat than end up covered in welts or a blistering sunburn.

Emily and Summer had never been camping before, at least not the kind of camping they were about to experience. Emily had told her, wide-eyed, that they’d be staying in a cabin.

Fallon had tried to explain that this cabin wasn’t like the ones their parents rented on long weekends. There’d be no bathrooms next to their bedroom or cozy fireplaces. It was the kind of cabin where you walked through the woods to pee and needed a mosquito net to sleep without being eaten alive.

“I guess we’ll see,” Fallon said, watching Owen dart through the yard. Then she glanced at Billie. “Have you thought more about Dave’s idea?”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “You mean the brilliant scheme you two cooked up that somehow involves me riding snowmobiles and standing in the freezing cold to take pictures?”

“It’s not a scheme. And it’s definitely not crazy.”

Billie sighed. “I know Dave’s worried that I’m upset about him not moving into my old house. I’m not.”

“Right.”

“I’m not, Fallon. And you don’t need to invent a way to include me just to make me feel useful.”

“I don’t need to invent anything. Dave might. And honestly, that doesn’t make the idea crazy. Seems sensible to me.”

“I’m a nurse, Fallon. Not a photographer. Not a painter.”

“Technically, you’re a teacher now.”

“You know what I mean.”

Fallon smirked. “I know what you’re doing. ”

Billie’s gaze narrowed. “What am I doing?”

“Exactly what you always do until someone knocks a little sense into you. Billie, you could absolutely make money with your camera and your paintings.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely. If you don’t want to freeze your ass off taking pictures in a snowbank, that’s fair. But don’t roll your eyes at the idea just because you think Dave’s trying to throw you a bone. He asked because he wants you to be part of something he’s excited about.”

Billie let out another sigh.

“And he’s not the only one who’s said you should sell your art. You’ve heard that a dozen times.”

“It’s a hobby,” Billie said. “It’s always been a way to escape work. I’m not sure I want to turn it into a job.”

Fallon hadn’t expected that answer.

“See?” Billie added. “You don’t always know what I’m thinking. I want to help you and Dave. If shooting some photos for your marketing stuff helps, I’m in. But I don’t want to make my escape hatch my day job.”

Fallon nodded. “Just make sure you tell Dave that. He’ll understand.”

Billie groaned. “I know. I will.”

“Tell him,” Fallon repeated.

Billie nodded again.

“Gwama!”

Fallon turned toward the voice. “Come to think of it, maybe it’s better if you stick to teaching.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t want to lose my free babysitter. I doubt Dave does either.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, Fallon.”

“Gwama!” Owen came racing up.

“Are you excited for your party?” Billie asked.

“Yep!” He grabbed her hand eagerly. “Come see!”

“What am I coming to see?”

“I got Gwama a toad!”

Billie and Fallon froze, exchanging a glance that said everything: Who is holding the toad?

“Mom or Andi,” Fallon muttered, already scooping Owen up as she broke into a run toward the porch with Billie a step behind her.

Billie and Fallon reached the porch to see Andi crouched low, arms outstretched like she was trying to talk the toad off a ledge.

“I had it,” Andi hissed. “I had it in my hands!”

“Look!” Owen beamed.

The toad, evidently uninterested in being part of anyone’s show-and-tell, chose that moment to leap—directly onto Riley’s bare foot.

Riley looked down. Blinked. And then let out a high-pitched, full-volume scream that could’ve shattered glass.

Billie doubled over in laughter.

Fallon nearly dropped Owen. “It’s a toad, Riley!”

“I know what it is!” Riley shrieked, hopping backward. “It’s on me ! ”

The toad seemed unbothered. It did a slow bounce toward the porch railing.

Andi lunged for it and missed.

Riley scrambled onto the nearest chair like the floor had turned into lava. “I swear to God, if that thing jumps on me again...”

“I got it!” Andi called triumphantly, cradling the toad in her hands.

Riley pointed. “Great. You can keep it right there."

“Mommy scared him!” Owen declared.

“No. He scared me! ” Riley said.

Fallon had to lean against the railing to keep herself upright. Billie was practically crying with laughter.

Pete’s voice drifted up from the yard. “Everything okay up there?”

"No" and "Yes" served as Fallon and Riley's simultaneous replies.

“New birthday tradition,” Billie said, trying to catch her breath. “Next year, maybe a snake?”

“I will not come,” Riley warned.

"It's your house," Fallon reminded her.

Andi gently handed the toad back to Owen, who cupped it like treasure.

“You’re not keeping him,” Fallon said firmly.

"He can have cake,” Owen bargained.

Billie smirked.

"Please?" Owen asked.

Fallon groaned. "Just until the end of the party," she said. "I'll get him a box. You have to set him free after that. Okay?"

Owen nodded happily.

"Sucker," Billie whispered.

"Now, we have toads?" Riley asked, finding her feet again. "The next one had better be a girl," she muttered, catching everyone's attention.

Ida shrugged. "Better hope she takes after you and not Fallon. Fallon had a creature emporium in her bedroom."

Riley's horrified expression set off another round of giggles.

"It could be worse," Andi said.

"Worse than worms, toads, and slithery things?"

"She could make you listen to My Heart Will Go On —on repeat," Andi offered.

"I think I'd take that over the emporium."

"You think so?" Ida asked. "Try it."

"Time to conquer your fears," Andi said, wrapping an arm around Riley.

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Come on, let's help Owen get his new friend settled."

"Do I have to touch it?"

Ida chose that moment to start singing. "Here, far, wherever you are..."

Riley grimaced. "How many creatures did she have in that emporium?" she asked Andi.

Andi winked.

An emporium? God help me.