Chapter 8
D enny covered her yawning mouth. She couldn’t blame her fatigue on jet lag alone. She’d been sleep-deprived ever since her parents’ death. She’d been besieged with nightmares and crushing feelings of guilt. Not that she had anything to feel guilty about. But still, if she’d offered to drive her parents’ home from the opera that night or ordered them an Uber, they’d still be alive.
Her thoughts meandered to her little bookstore with its front bay window and tall bookcases crammed with mostly used but also some new books. How would it survive without her there for a whole week? She chastised herself for agreeing to come on this trip just to make her older sister happy. Her whole life she’d followed in her big sister’s footsteps. Never quite as good. Never as successful. Maureen was a star while Denny was stuck in her dumb meager life. And as far as she could tell, she might not live another year. She shouldn’t have gone on any trip until she’d found out what was wrong with her. Pain in her abdomen had been warning her for over a year. Yet her gynecologist, after performing a series of tests, had found nothing. That doctor sent her to a gastroenterologist, who had finally turned her over to an oncologist, who suggested she try counseling. Which made Denny angry. What a nerve. Her pain was real. Not all in her head.
Denny was tempted to call Agnes to find out if the young woman had opened the store but figured it was still too early. With Denny out of town would she bother coming to work at all? When it came down to it, did it matter? Business had been so slow Denny could barely pay the rent, insurance, and Agnes’s wages. Dad had been right when he’d ridiculed Denny’s selling used books. But it was her passion. She knew she needed to buy more stock and to advertise. She’d toyed with the idea of branching out and offering gifts. But what? Since her parents’ death, it felt as if she were crossing a river, the current pushing her downstream, her footing unsure on the slippery rocks.
As Denny surveyed the hotel’s grand decor, she pulled her mind back to the present. Since she’d told Maureen that she would go along with anything she had planned, Denny couldn’t complain. And this hotel looked fancy-schmancy. She envisioned herself sinking into a bed with a soft pillow and smooth sheets. All she wanted was a good night’s sleep, but her doctor had refused to give her sleeping pills. Maybe Maureen had a sleep aid. Perhaps she also suffered from insomnia. There was so much Denny didn’t know about her only sibling. Not that Maureen knew much about Denny, who kept her secret safely tucked away.