Chapter 16
sixteen
Nev
I park in front of Dane's rental house because aside from Dane's car, there are two other cars in the driveway, both shabby and old.
He never mentioned a dinner party. I'm expecting a quiet, romantic evening.
I've been ready for two hours. Dane called to move dinner from seven to nine because he had some work issues to take care of.
Now I'm starved and tired and whatever caused him to delay the date is still parked in the driveway.
I pull out my phone to text him and let him know we should just take a rain check on the whole thing.
Before I can send off the text, three men come lumbering out of the house.
Dane is behind them. He stands on the front stoop with his jaw set squarely and his arms crossed defensively.
The men climbing into the cars are definitely not subcontractors or architects or real estate agents or any of the kinds of people who would be working on a residential development.
They look more like the type of men working on some shady underground business.
One of them looks my way for a long moment, staring at me suspiciously.
His long, hard glare brings Dane's attention my direction.
Dane says something sharply to the men, and they get into their cars and take off. Dane walks over to my parked car. I'm reluctant to get out. He knocks playfully on the passenger window. I'm not in a playful mood, but I'm very curious.
I step out of the car and look over the top at him. "Who the hell were those men?" I ask.
Dane gives me a confused look, as if he has no idea what I'm talking about.
"Don't pretend, Dane. I was sitting right here when they walked out. You delayed dinner because it had something to do with work. Those guys did not look like residential developers."
"Well, they might not have looked it, but that's exactly who they were. Investors, in fact."
I laugh once and sharply. "Your investors drive an ancient Toyota and a Camaro with more rust than paint?"
"They're frugal. I'm done with this topic. You've never held any interest in my business. No need to start now. I never got dinner in the oven, but I'll call and order something from Ming's Chinese Food."
I shake my head. "You know what? It's late. I'm going to head back home."
Dane circles briskly around the car to my side. He takes hold of my hand, but I leave my hand limp. I don't grasp back. "Don't leave, Nev. I've got the wine chilling, and we don't have to have Chinese takeout. I'll fix us a couple omelets. C'mon, I've been waiting to see you all night."
"No, Dane, really, I'm tired. I've been ready for two hours thinking we were getting together at seven. Then you postponed it two hours, and now, I just want to go to bed. I've got to be at work early."
Dane's sigh sounds like a growl. "Yes, the fucking sandwich shop yet again."
I reach for my door handle. He presses a hand against the window to keep me from opening it. It's the first time I've felt truly uncomfortable with the man, and I'm questioning where my natural instincts have been. I'm usually much better at judging people.
I keep my hand on the door, and I stare down at it, avoiding eye contact. "Please, Dane, I need to go home," I say firmly.
He holds his hand there longer and then pulls it away. "Fine. Just go. You're too fucking high-maintenance anyway. Moody bitch."
I open the car, jump in and start it up.
"I'm sorry, Nev. I didn't mean it. Let's go inside and talk."
I give him a "you've got to be kidding" look. He has to jump back as I pull away from the curb and drive off. I glance in the mirror. Dane is standing in the middle of the road, scowling at me.
"Good fucking riddance, asshole." I head home.
Kinsley is watching television as I walk inside. She immediately grabs the remote and pauses the movie when she sees me. "That was the world's fastest dinner date," she says.
"No dinner, no date, no more Dane."
"That's for the best. You guys weren't a good match." Kinsley picks up the half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and holds it up. "You look hungry."
"I'm starved." I grab a handful of popcorn but don't sit down. I'm ready to change into pajamas and crawl into bed with a book.
"I knew he wasn't right for you." Kinsley sits back with a satisfied smirk.
I raise my brow at her. "Uh, you literally said 'don't let this one go, Nev. He's rich and handsome. What else do you need?'"
Kinsley tugs at the hem of her crop top. "Not sure if I said exactly that."
"That's what literally means, Kiki. And it's easy for me to remember because you said it at least three times."
"Well, I was wrong. There. Satisfied?"
I shrug. "A little. Anyhow, it's done. It's in the past." Right as I say it my phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket.
Babe, let's talk tomorrow. We were both tired and grumpy.
Dane always ends his texts with a heart emoji. The overuse has made it meaningless.
"Well, it will be in the past soon," I say.
"Is that him?"
I push my phone back into my pocket. "Yeah, but I'll let him know tomorrow that this isn't going anywhere. I'm heading to bed."
"No dinner?"
"Nothing sounds good at this hour except greasy popcorn, and I know I'll regret eating that, so nope, going to bed without supper. It's my punishment for being stupid when it comes to men."
Kinsley laughs as I walk away. "Maybe we can start the Stupid Society of Women Who Can't Choose Men. Never mind. The name's too long."
I walk into my room and change into my favorite pajamas. They're silky and oversized and covered with smiling sheep. Who needs a man when you can go to bed draped in smiling sheep?
The wooden box filled with mementos is visible under the bed.
I reach down and pull it out. I open the lid and stare into the clutter of valueless trinkets.
I fumble around for the thin plastic baggie and pull it out.
The three stalks of dried lavender have kept their shape, although I'm sure the smell is long gone.
I open it and take a whiff. The slightest fragrance wafts up from the bag, but it's not flowery perfume. It's the smell of sadness.
* * *
Then
"Another casserole," Kinsley says as she closes the front door. "I don't know why so many people are trying to feed us."
"It's just what people do when someone dies." Nana's cuckoo clock strikes fifteen past the hour. "We better head over to the park."
Nana wanted a graveside service. "Simple and to the point.
The point being that I'm dead," she said.
The doctor warned us that her heart was giving out fast, but Kinsley and I refused to believe it.
She was full of life right up to the day when she got in bed for the last time.
We knew our one true parent was much older than our friends' parents, but it was too hard to ever think about losing her.
She managed to stay long enough for both of us to reach adulthood and for that we were both thankful, but the void left behind by her loss was immeasurable to us and to the entire town of Rockhurst.
While we were making arrangements, Nana's simple and to the point funeral grew too large for the town cemetery. It became clear that most of the town planned on saying farewell to her, so we got a permit to have a nice ceremony in the park near the cemetery.
Kinsley and I hold hands as we walk down the sidewalk to the park.
Cars are already lined up along the quiet street.
Up ahead people are walking toward the park, wearing black and somber gray and, like us, holding hands with their family members.
Kinsley's grip on my hand tightens as we get closer to the park.
Several tables have been set up. One to collect flowers and cards and one to provide refreshments.
It was one of Nana's requests. She was always the hostess.
Some of her friends, Marybel and Connie, her knitting circle and coffee chat friends, are handing out single yellow roses, Nana's favorite.
Someone has painted a banner that says, "You're forever in our hearts, El Honey.
" It's stretched between two shade trees.
Our friends and the kids we grew up with, and even some of the generations after us, called Nana El Honey, short for Ellen Honeysett. It was a fitting nickname.
Kinsley tugs my hand to stop us before crossing over to the park.
Her eyes are wet with tears again. The two of us have been trading off being the stronger sister while the other one has a meltdown.
It's worked well, only I'm starting to crumble right along with her this time because it's becoming all too clear that Nana is gone forever.
Kinsley takes a deep breath and nods to let me know we can continue.
The first few minutes are hard. Kinsley and I are overwhelmed by well-wishers.
We're showered with hugs and tears and small anecdotes of something special Nana did or said to someone.
Kinsley looks ruffled by it all, so I step in, like always, as the big sister, even though at the moment I wish I had a big sister to step in for me.
Then, in the midst of the hurricane of well-wishing, the crowd grows eerily silent.
Everyone's focus is pulled to the north corner of the park.