“Sounds entertaining.”
“We could sell tickets.” Windy chuckled as she dug a hole.
“I guess another dinner party might be a good test for Laurel’s new theories about living peacefully with a narcissist.”
“Good point. So do you mind if I plan another get together for Saturday night? I’ve been thinking about seafood.”
“Sounds good.”
“Maybe Marcus will dig up some available bachelors by then. We could tell Fiona to invite her guy friend from her band if she likes as well. The more, the merrier.”
“I hope you’re right.” Riva made a stiff smile. She didn’t think it sounded that good, especially after her awkward exodus at their last gathering, but if Laurel could face another social evening, Riva figured she should at least try. “Let me know if I can get anything or do anything to help,” she told Windy. “We shouldn’t leave it all on you.”
“Laurel already offered to help delegate tasks, including the shopping. You know how she loves charts and assignments. If you’re not careful, she’ll take over the whole house.”
“I’m not sure I mind.” Riva felt somewhat relieved. “Despite what Kitty said, I don’t plan on playing the house mother.” She wrinkled her nose.
“And you shouldn’t have to.”
“Right.” Riva stood. “Happy gardening.”
Windy set down the spade and reached for a seedling packet. “Hey, are you going to the grief group today?”
Riva considered this. “I, uh, I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.” The truth was she had never planned to return to the group, had felt she didn’t need it.
“I just thought after that rough night of feeling shook up by your anger ... well, it might be helpful. I heard there’s a specialguest speaker today. I’m not sure what the topic is, but it might be good.”
“Are you going?”
Windy stretched, reaching her hands upward. “I think gardening is more therapeutic for me at this stage of the game, but if you want someone to go with you, I could—”
“No, no, that’s okay.” Riva shook her head. She didn’t need handholding. “I’m not sure it’ll do me any good, but it probably won’t hurt. Besides, I don’t have anything else planned.”
“I think my car has you blocked in, but I can move it.”
“Don’t bother. It’s such a gorgeous day. I’ll walk.” Riva figured she could walk down the hill extra slow, be late to the meeting, “not want to interrupt,” and then continue into town for a cup of coffee.
When Riva got to the library, the doors to the meeting room were closed and, for a moment, she just stood there, trying to decide whether to wimp out or go in.
“Let me get that.” A hand reached past her, opening the door. She turned to see Marcus, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “After you,” he said quietly.
Feeling trapped, she went in ahead of him. Today the chairs were arranged in rows, which felt a bit less intimidating. She took a seat in the back and Marcus sat next to her. As she settled in, she caught random phrases from the middle-aged woman in a business suit at the front.
“...compassionate comfort ... the right to a peaceful end-of-life experience ... educate loved ones...” The woman continued talking, but Riva’s mind was on alert.
She glanced at Marcus. His jawline looked stiff, and his brow furrowed. Was he as confused as she was? Wasn’t this supposed to be a grief group? It felt like a class on assisted suicide. She fidgeted with her purse, removing her phone, and wondering ifshe could feign an urgent message that forced her to leave early. Or did she need an excuse? Why not just walk out? After all, she was a free agent. She glanced toward the closed door. As a man up front asked the speaker a complicated question, she stood and made a beeline for the door.
Feeling breathless and somewhat claustrophobic, she exited the meeting room and practically sprinted from the library. Outside, in the clean fresh air, she walked quickly, or maybe she ran, about a block before she stopped by a concrete bench and sat down, inhaling a steadying breath. What was wrong with her? She was well-aware that assisted suicide was perfectly legal in Oregon, but it had never been a topic she’d felt the need to delve into. And, really, she didn’t see how being educated on it could possibly help her move past her own grief. If anything, it just made her feel worse.
“There you are.” Marcus stood over her. “Are you okay?”
She forced a wimpy smile. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just decided I didn’t want to be there.”
“Was it the topic?” He sat down next to her.
“Probably ... I don’t know. I don’t think I wanted to be there in the first place. Honestly, I don’t see what today’s topic has to do with me. I thought this was supposed to be a grief group. I didn’t expect for some expert to stand up there and tell me how to die or how to let someone else die.” She felt tears stinging. “Been there, done that.”
“Uh-huh.” He rubbed his chin. “And yet it must’ve pushed an emotional button with you.”
