“How can you eat?”
“I don’t want to eat,” she replied, bringing Jo with her into the upscale diner.
She hadn’t understood. Not really. Not until now.
Betty wasn’t just sick. She wasdying.
That trip in the Thunderbird was more than some nostalgic lark. It was the thing Betty had clung to while she still could. One more ride. One more beautiful dream. And Maggie—stubborn, scared, prideful Maggie—had nearly stolen it from her by saying no.
The fear didn’t go away. It sat in Maggie’s chest like an anchor, pressing down on every bone.
But something else had shifted. Maybe not courage—at least not yet—but clarity.
They slid into a booth and instantly Jo picked up the paper napkin to wipe tears from under her eyes.
“Give it to me,” Maggie said.
With a question in her expression, Jo Ellen held out the napkin.
“No! The itinerary from Roscoe or Oswald. Whatever you call him.”
Her eyes flickered, a hint of brightness returning. “Oscar.” She fished in her tote. “It’s here. Right here.” She shoved it across the table. “He made a printable version with cute little clip art and?—”
“Hush. I can’t read and talk at the same time.”
Jo Ellen instantly closed her mouth, staying silent while a waitress brought them water and menus as Maggie skimmed the ridiculously detailed itinerary. Oscar was clearly an over-thinker.
But it looked…doable.
Apalachicola. Cedar Key. The Villages? She’d skip that one or Jo Ellen would have them condo shopping. But mostly it was tiny towns, back roads, ice cream shops, antiquing, and pie.
It wasn’t the trip that scared her. It was what it meant: letting go of control. Admitting fear. Being vulnerable enough to sayyesto life, even when it terrified her.
Because Betty Cavallari was dying.
She blinked away tears as she put the stack of papers next to her. “We’ll do it.”
Jo Ellen gasped. “You mean it?”
“For Betty,” Maggie said, her voice rough. Then, quieter, “And maybe for me.”
Jo Ellen reached across the table and took Maggie’s hand. “It’s the right thing to do, Mags. And we’ll have fun.”
Maggie took a shaky breath. “God help us,” she muttered.
Jo Ellen smiled. “He already has. He gave us Crabcake the cat and a robot travel assistant. What more do we need?”
“A miracle,” Maggie said. “And good weather. I hate to drive in rain.”
“Of course you do.”
“And we will not tell anyone where we’re going,” she added.
“Do you think that’s smart?”
“They’ll never let us leave,” Maggie told her. “And we have to get that car. For Betty.”
Jo Ellen picked up her water glass. “For Betty,” she said.
