She was feeling guilty about their phone call. They hadn’t talked since. Which wouldn’t be that unusual, in a normal week... but Cherry didn’t like that that spiky conversation was their last interaction.
She got home late from the shareholder meeting, around one a.m. She’d walked Stevie at five, but the dog still acted like she’d been alone for weeks when Cherry walked in.
Cherry took off her fancy, low-heeled boots and went to sit on the couch, still wearing a Western Alliance–red cocktail dress and nude hose.
Stevie brought Cherry an indestructible nylon boomerang, and Cherry played at trying to take it from her.
It was only eleven o’clock in Los Angeles. Tom would probably still be up.
She picked up her phone and pressed his name.Tom (Emergency Contact).At the last second, she decided to make it a video call. Her makeup still looked nice. Her dress showed off her shoulders. She’d had her hair professionally blown out. She and Tom almost never video-called—she’d apologize. She’d look in his eyes. She’d remind herself that she loved him, and hopefully vice versa.
It rang a few times.
Cherry figured Tom wasn’t going to pick up...
But then hedidpick up. As if it was a phone call. He held his phone to his face.
Cherry laughed. “Tom, I’m here. I FaceTimed you.”
“What?” He pulled the phone back and saw her. “I didn’t know you were FaceTiming me.”
“Sorry. I should have texted.”
“No,” he said. “You don’t have to text.” Tom looked... off. Maybe he was tired. His hair was longer than usual. And messier. And his face looked flushed. Maybe he’d been in the sun. It was California—he was probably always in the sun.
He seemed agitated.
“Are you...” She wasn’t sure what to ask.
“The shareholder meeting was today,” he said, like he was just remembering. “How’d it go?” Tom’s eyes cut away from the phone, past the phone, like he was watching television. But she couldn’t hear the television. He nodded. Minutely. (This all happened in a second.)
“Is someone there?” Cherry asked.
Tom looked at the phone again. He hesitated. “Rachel,” he said. “She was just saying good-bye.”
“Hi, Cherry,” Rachel said in the background.
Maybe...
Maybe Cherry would have let it go. On another night.
Tom worked all the time. Tom took late flights. Tom went to awards ceremonies. And charity events. Rachel went with him. There was always a good reason for her to be there.
Maybe.
If Cherry hadn’t seen Tom’s face.
If Tom hadn’t looked terrified.
She hung up on him.
Her hands were shaking. She couldn’t catch her breath.
Cherry ignored the next three phone calls.
She climbed into her bed, still dressed.
She finally picked up an hour later. It was two o’clock in Omaha. Midnight in Los Angeles.
