Chapter 8 #2
Tension bleeds from Holly’s shoulders and jaw and, like synchronized swimmers, we both turn to look at Zoe. “It makes me wonder what else she hasn’t told us,” I say.
“Same,” Holly whispers. “Given what she wrote, we should prepare ourselves for a few more surprises.”
Our gazes meet over Zoe, my stomach rolling with the warning.
I start to reach across the table for Holly’s hand, desperate for that connection, but we’re interrupted by our waitress.
We place our orders, fresh drinks arrive, and as we eat, our conversation is so stilted that I’m squirming in my seat before I’ve finished my stuffed poblano pepper.
Getting anything out of Holly is like using dull tweezers to pluck eyebrows—tedious and exasperating.
I hate that she doesn’t want to share anything with me about her life.
I know more about her from the details Zoe shared.
I wonder if she ever asked Zoe about me.
She asks about my parents, something she never used to do.
Holly met Harry and Cosima once. She knows that they had absolutely no interest in me as a child, leaving Alice to raise me.
Meanwhile, I’m left stammering over their latest updates, which aren’t that recent.
I haven’t seen them since they left for their place in Costa Rica months ago.
She doesn’t ask, though, about my company or the philanthropies I’ve been supporting.
She doesn’t even ask about Alice. So I don’t have the opportunity to show her I’m not the vapid trust fund baby she believes I’ve turned into.
Nor does she even hint at the secret she’s been keeping from me that Zoe alluded to in the first letter Charles had read to us.
The minimal conversation we do have leaves me with the impression Holly truly doesn’t care about me anymore. That the blip of empathy she extended on the plane was all for show. That everything we once shared has been thrown away because of one mistake.
By the end of the meal, I’m feeling two helpings of spiced rice below deserving of Holly’s attention and interest when she gets down to business.
“According to Zoe’s itinerary, you have the letter explaining what we’re doing tomorrow. You’re supposed to read it tonight. Did you bring it?”
I nod, schooling my face, and retrieve the sealed envelope from my purse. This time I don’t bother to sniff the stationery when I open the letter—it’s too much right now. I just read.
“‘Hello, gals, by now you’ve arrived at the Royal Oceano. Does it look the same? That place was amazing. They had the best Banana Monkeys. I had so much fun with you there. I hope you can recapture some of those feelings.
“‘Tomorrow is a big day. Holly has the letter that explains how you’ll disperse some of my ashes. Don’t read it until you get on the boat.’”
“What boat?” Holly interrupts, the glow of her complexion waning.
“Ah…” I skim the letter, continuing: “‘That’s right,’ Zoe says here, ‘you’re going for a boat ride.’”
“We did a lot of things on that trip. Why’d she pick the boat? Why not horseback riding on the beach?” Holly complains, her unyielding posture slouching over the table.
“I’m sure she has her reasons. She’s put a lot of thought into everything about this trip.”
Holly doesn’t look convinced, but she motions for me to continue.
I clear my throat. “‘Catch the Cabo Tours snorkeling boat to Pelican Cove at the dock at eight a.m. tomorrow morning.’”
Holly’s eyes close, her head falling back. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I don’t think she is,” I say, fighting the urge to apologize on Zoe’s behalf. I do feel bad for Holly. It was an unfortunate excursion.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I refocus on the letter before the memory of what happened pops the cork on my giggles. It really had been hysterically mortifying for Holly. “‘Don’t be late, Anna! Remember your sunscreen, Holly!’ Sunscreen and Dramamine,” I add under my breath.
Holly lifts her head. “What?”
“Nothing.” I return my attention to the letter.
“‘I imagine tomorrow will be difficult. (I’d be having a hard time too if our situations were reversed.) But know this: I’m eternally grateful.
I love you both more than life. You’ll always be my BFFs, and even in death, I’ll never forget you.
Please don’t forget me. Kisses and hugs, Z. ’”
I inhale a shaky breath and return the letter to its envelope, my gaze lifting to Holly’s. Her mouth is a thin line, her posture rigid again. Doubtful she’s looking forward to tomorrow for more reasons than the release of our best friend’s ashes.
She breaks eye contact, scooping up her purse and the check the waitress had discreetly left at the edge of our table.
“Don’t bring Zoe,” she says, standing.
“We have to take her.”
“Of course,” Holly says, rolling her eyes at the obvious. “We’ll bring some of her ashes with us. I have a baggie we can use. I’ll slip it under your door.”
“You can’t be serious.” Zoe isn’t a sandwich.
“We’ll be on a boat. We can’t risk damaging her urn.”
“We won’t. I’ll be extra careful.”
Holly’s mouth tightens further until I’m almost afraid of the words she’s holding back. “Just bring some of the ashes in the baggie,” she says. Before I can argue, she strides off, shoving the check and a credit card at the hostess by the entrance of the restaurant.
I gather my purse and Zoe, and trot after Holly. “Where are you going?”
“To bed. As Zoe wrote, we have a big day ahead of us. I’ll meet you at the dock. Don’t bring the urn,” she orders before taking her credit card back and marching away, not giving me a chance to ask about meeting for breakfast and sharing an Uber to the dock.
I sigh dejectedly. So much for inviting her along for a nightcap at the lobby bar. Zoe would have joined me, same with Leo if we were back home. He’d make quips about Holly’s baggie suggestion and have me laughing, quickly forgetting how awkward dinner was. I almost smile at the thought.
I look at Zoe. “Think Holly will ever forgive me?”
Zoe doesn’t answer. She just shines beneath the lighting.
How I wish she was here with us. I could really use her advice right now.
I nod at the hostess and a couple waiting to be seated who are watching me suspiciously, then whisper to Zoe as we leave the restaurant, “Don’t listen to what she says. I won’t leave you behind.”