A friend’s girlfriend is a world-class violinist and she’s free this Friday. I’m going to ask her to play in the Observatory while we’re up there looking at the Hollywood sign. Sage wanted to see it the last time she was here, but I persuaded her it wasn’t worth it. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that’s been my problem all along. I’ve been looking at things with the wrong lens. I painted Cedar Brook Falls as this backwards community, a place that never understood me, when really it was the place that built me into the man I am today. I thought the Hollywood sign was lame until someone showed me pictures of it from the observatory. I never saw it from that angle. If I’m going to begin a new path, I want to start by looking at it from a new perspective.
I grab my keys, ready to head out to the flower shop. I have this idea of creating a floral arch around the spot where I’ll propose. I hired a photographer and she suggested it after showing me some pictures she took of other engagements. I haven’t told my parents or friends yet. Even Austin doesn’t know. I only want this to be between the two of us for now.
As I’m about to leave, my phone rings. It’s Brett.
“Hey,” I say as I lock my front door. “What’s up?”
“Philly is upping their offer. Can you believe it?”
“Wow, that’s pretty incredible.”
“I know. So, when do you want to make the announcement?”
“I don’t know. I’m still undecided. I’m really thinking about New York.”
“New York? Casey, you can’t be serious. New York’s offer isn’t even close to Philly’s. There’s no way they’re going to up it. Even a great agent like me can’t negotiate something like that.”
“I understand. But it won’t just boil down to money for me. I’ll know more after the World Series.”
“All right. You focus on the game. The better you pitch, the better the offers, right. Go get’em, Tucker.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up the phone and press the button for the elevator. I’m nearly at the parking garage when my phone rings again. I don’t answer it. Whoever it is, it can wait. I need to get to the flower shop before it closes, and I have practice all day tomorrow so that’s not an option.
But when the phone starts ringing again, and I see Austin’s name, I worry it could be about dad.
“Hey, Austin. Is Dad all right?”
“Casey, I’m so glad you picked up.” His voice is muffled against the loud wind in the background.
“Are you driving? I can’t hear you.”
“Yes. I’m on my way to the hospital. Jane didn’t want me to call you, but I know you’d be upset if we didn’t.”
“Shit. Did he have another heart attack?”
“Who?”
“Dad.”
“No. Why would you say that?”
The wind is louder now, as though he’s gotten on the freeway. The hospital isn’t more than ten miles from town, and we rarely take the freeway. “You said you were going to the hospital to see him.”
“No. We’re not going to the hospital to see Dad.”
“Then why?”
“We’re going to see Sage.”
I hear the words but it’s as though my brain is protecting me from wanting to understand them.
“Sage. Are you picking her up from work?”
“No, Casey. Sage was hit by a cab as she was crossing the street. The driver didn’t stop at the red light, just turned right without slowing down. He says he didn’t see her walking. Which is bullshit—”
“Austin!” I shout. My brain finally lets this sink in. “Is Sage okay?”
