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Jane started rereadingVillettewhile she ate her solitary dinner, then read more in the bathtub, and then went to bed, reading until she nodded off and had vivid yet amorphous dreams of wandering through mazes of cold stone walls in a moonlit medieval city, shivering and alone.

Chapter Fifteen

Leila, Again

The following day, Jane and Lindsey had another repeat client: Leila, the woman in Hancock Park who’d been widowed by suicide. Remembering their shared affinity for Hermès scarves, Jane made a point of wearing one.

When she opened the front door, Leila’s first remark was, “Jane, the vermillion in your scarf is gorgeous! It’s inspiring me—I’m still choosing the color palette for my new house.”

Leila, vibrant and chatty, wanted help packing up her house for an upcoming move. Unlike their prior visit, when she’d left them alone in the pool house, today they worked side by side, starting in the kitchen, the realm of expired pantry items, junk drawers, duplicate utensils, obsolete gadgets.

“I’m so glad you were available. All this stuff, the years, the memories—it’s daunting.” Leila tossed a spatula into the discard pile.

“Are you staying in LA?” Lindsey asked.

“Kind of—Pasadena. I’m moving in with someone. He was a client. I helped him decorate his bachelor pad, and now we’re moving in together!”

“That’s wonderful,” Jane told her.

“It is wonderful! And I did not see it coming. I didn’t think I was ready, but it turns out—I was ready!”

The day went by swiftly. Jane and Lindsey had grown into a remarkably efficient team—they could anticipate each other’s thoughts and reactions, a sympathy that was almost uncanny. Leila enjoyed their repartee, and the three women worked together seamlessly. And Jane wasn’t tempted to take a single thing.

When Jane arrived home and walked through the front door, she saw Teddy’s beanie on the table in the foyer. Next to it, a motley bouquet of colorful flowers: sunflowers, roses, carnations, lilies, gladioli, the sickeningly named baby’s breath.

Jane knew their provenance: he had gotten them from one of the flower sellers outside the Forest Lawn cemetery. The cacophony of colors was hideous and also gorgeous. There was something so Teddy about getting her flowers from the street-side vendor. These flowers were suffused with generosity and kindness. This was the Teddy she loved.

The vehicle would always be flawed, wouldn’t it? You needed to look past the flaws, to the essence. Teddy could do it effortlessly, embracing his love for her. This was real metaphysics, a design for living.

She heard pots clanging in the kitchen. Her heart soared. Jane picked up the bouquet and stepped into her future.