Thirty-five
Edie didn’t hesitate; she grabbed a jacket—for Frances—and went after her.
Apparently, time did not heal all wounds.
All those old hurts were living in them still.
Frances was right—who were they kidding?
This idea had been wholesale madness from the jump.
It was alarming how four senior women could think this was the thing to do.
Did any of them have any functioning common sense?
On what planet could they attempt the biggest job they’d ever done in their seventies?
If she hadn’t been so angry with Simon, and Rocco—and Marcy, come on, Marcy, too—she would have run the other way.
But she didn’t run. She was hotheaded, and stubborn, and all the things Simon had ever accused her of being.
And now she could add the worst grandmother ever for having roped Marcy into this.
She was so nervous, because she didn’t know if she could still crack a safe under pressure.
But mostly, Edie was worried about Franny.
She’d never had a friend like her and she didn’t want to lose her again. Not like this, anyway.
“Stop following me!” Frances shouted at her from the twenty or so feet she’d managed to get ahead.
“I won’t.”
Frances halted her stride and whipped around. “Stop, Edie. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Why not?” Edie asked. “What more could you possibly have to say?”
“Because I’m having a pity party, table for one. I feel like a fucking moron and I’m on steroids and I can’t guarantee I won’t deck you.”
Edie sighed. “I’m not worried about that. I can still take you. And I brought you a jacket.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Frances said, turning back around. “Did you bring a pair of kid gloves, too?”
Edie jogged to catch up to Frances. She looped her arm through hers and pressed the jacket to her chest. Frances snatched it from her hand, shook her off, and stabbed her arms into the sleeves of the jacket. “Cut it out. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you look and act totally fine.”
Frances rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you, obviously. Look, I know I let you down, but guess what? Not nearly as much as I let myself down.”
Frances shook her head and began to walk, albeit at a normal pace.
“I’m over it, Edie,” she said. “Water under the bridge. I just … I probably should have gone to my son’s house and let him put me in some kind of care home and waited to die.
But I really wanted to see you all again, and I was so bored, and I came up with this stupid idea.
Ridiculous! Insane! And it’s a bust, and now it feels like I’m losing you guys all over again.
” She sniffed, then ran her fingertips under her eyes.
“You’re not losing us,” Edie said. “Let’s sit,” she said, gesturing to a bus stop bench.
“Skinner said not to hang out on this street.”
“You’re on steroids. I’m not worried.”
Frances tried not to smile, but she couldn’t keep from it.
“Also, I owe you a huge apology,” Edie said.
“Yeah, I know. But no, you don’t. It really is water under the bridge, Edie. It’s not like I’ve been sitting around all these years mad at you.”
“Still, everything you said was true. I broke us up in the most horrific way, all for Simon. I was a coward. I should have just told you how I felt. That I didn’t want to go through with it. And when he found the jewelry and figured it out, I panicked.”
Frances leaned her head against Edie’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for falling in love, Edie. I know how important a family was to you. It sounds like you’ve got a great one.”
“I do,” Edie said softly. “Even Simon. I mean, yes, he’s a cheating ass. But there has always been something between the two of us that is unbreakable. He knows about me, and he still loves me.”
“I’m not going to take the time now to try to convince you how freakishly codependent that is, so okay. The truth is I would never have known Nick if we hadn’t ended.”
Edie took Frances’s hand in hers. “He was a good one, huh?”
“The best.” Frances’s eyes shone with tears. “I miss him so much.”
The two of them sat on that bench, staring at the trash skirting down the street on a night’s breeze.
The flashing of neon lights against a dark skyline.
“I wish I’d figured out a way to have Simon and you guys, too,” Edie said.
“I missed you all and I hated that you weren’t there for the big moments in my life.
Like having my kids. God, you should have heard me wail with the first one.
And the grandkids. Not to mention the awards I’ve won for my gardening. You would be terribly impressed.”
Frances laughed softly. “Well, you missed out on my stellar pickleball career.”
They continued to sit in silence for a few minutes more. “So …” Edie said at last. “Cancer, huh? That sucks.”
“Balls,” Frances agreed.
“I hate to ask, but—”
“I don’t know. A few months at best. Although this week it has felt like a few weeks. Or even days.”
Edie winced inwardly. That news cut through her chest and straight through her heart. “What about treatment?”
Frances sighed and shook her head. “I may regret that decision in the end, but it wasn’t going to change the ultimate outcome.
And I … I don’t have anything to live for that would make all the sickness worth it.
At least this way, I’m leaving something to my son.
And going out with a bang, which, as you know, has always been the way I like to do things. ”
Edie tightened her grip of Frances’s hand. Life was so cruel, so unfair. So infuriatingly random. “I’m so sorry, Franny.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t think we should throw in the towel, though.”
Frances groaned. “Come on, Edie. You know as well as I do that Marcy is having second thoughts.”
“Yes, I do. She’s a good kid. She loves me and she will soldier on.
Her part is done, so there’s that. But look, the thing is, none of us have a lot of time.
Your time may be shorter, but we aren’t getting any younger and any one of us could kick off at any moment.
I think we should all end this with a bang. A big, boozy, spectacular bang.”
Frances looked away. “What about Joan and Irene?”
“They’re in. I mean, I think they are. They’ve put a lot of work into this. And they found each other again. Also, I don’t think Irene could bear to tell her dark web friends that it’s a no on the power failure. She’d lose her street cred.”
“Irene’s street cred!” Frances repeated, laughing. So did Edie. They were suddenly laughing so hard they both doubled over with it. “Is this the craziest thing we’ve ever done?” Frances wheezed.
“Crazier than somehow getting on flights to Sweden?”
“Or showing up in Venice?”
They laughed harder. But then Frances said, “I guess we should go back and talk to the others.”
“And remind them that no matter how much of a bitch any one of us is, we love each other and always will.”
Joan was pacing when they came through the door. She ran to Frances and wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Okay, all right,” Frances said into her shoulder. “I’m not that close to death.”
“I just wanted to get it in before you are,” Joan said.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” Frances began, but Irene threw herself into the hug. “Shut up, Fran. It’s not your fault.”
“I mean I’m sorry for the last time. Joan was right—I took off without worrying about the two of you.”
“Bygones,” Irene said. “We really were a family, and sometimes, families fight. You guys are like sisters to me. Not Joan obviously, but you and Edie, as improbable as that should be.”
“We lost all our trust,” Frances said tearfully.
“No, we didn’t,” Joan said. “We’re here. We’re still family.” She looked up. “Get over here, Edie. Even you.”
“Are you sure?” Edie asked.
“Get over here,” Joan said, and held out one arm for her. “You’re the bad sister. Every group needs one. It makes the rest of us look good.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Edie said, but walked into the group hug, and the four of them clung to each other.
“I’m sorry, Fran,” Irene whispered. “I should have told you to lay off the processed deli meat. You sure did love those roast beef sandwiches from that sketchy corner store.”
“I wouldn’t have listened,” Frances said.
“Fifty years,” Edie muttered.
“And I’m not throwing that away,” Joan said. “Especially now that we have it back.”
“So, what does this mean?” Edie asked. “Are we doing this thing?”
“We’re doing this thing,” Frances said.
Joan lifted her head. “Marcy, girl, get your ass over here.”
“Oh no—”
“My God, how the stubbornness runs in the family. Get over here,” Edie said.
Marcy reluctantly came but let the women fold her into their group hug.
“Marcy? Now is the time to get on a plane if you’re not all in,” Frances said.
Marcy swallowed. She nodded. “I’m in. I’ve come this far.”
“And?” Frances prompted her.
“And … we’re all going to die?”
The women laughed.
“We’re going to die trying,” Frances said.
“Oof,” Edie said, wincing. “Maybe a little too on the nose, Franny. Let’s stick with best of luck.”
Frances couldn’t help but laugh at the absurd truth in that.