He tipped his head toward the bedroom. “I’ll get my packing done.”
“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”
“No, but I’ll text you once I do. Maybe two or three days? I really have no idea.”
“Don’t you worry about it. We’ll be fine here.”
“I know you will be.” He looked down. “And you’ll protect the house and everyone in it, won’t you, Bunny?”
Bunny gave a little woof.
Joyce smiled and washed the ripest of the tomatoes. Mitch went off to pack, Bunny trailing along behind him.
Beryl came out a few minutes later, Ruthie on her shoulder, gently patting the baby’s back. “What do you think about a dip in the pool after we’re done today? I was thinking we could takeRuthie in with us. If Kyle’s all right with that. She sleeps better when she’s been in the pool and with Mitch gone, Kyle will be the only one here to get up with her at night.”
Joyce nodded. “Good idea.”
“Did you hear that, Ruthie?” Beryl said. “Pool time later! Of course, we have to ask your daddy.” She carried the baby to her swing and sat her in the seat.
Joyce smiled. Beryl was the only one related to her by blood, but that didn’t matter. This was her family and she felt privileged to be part of it. Even the girls next door were like family now. Her heart broke for Harper, but she was a strong one. She’d get through this.
Joyce set the tomato on the cutting board, then selected a knife from the block. She made nice thick slices. This was just how life went. Highs and lows. Laughter and tears. Hard parts and easy parts.
For a while, life here had felt heavy on the hard parts, but that had changed with the arrival of the girls next door.
Joyce could only pray that this hard part went quickly for Harper, and that Mitch helped her find her way back to the easy side of things.
Chapter Forty-Six
The sleep Harper thought she needed never came. She lay on the bed, wishing she could drift off and forget. But sleep wasn’t happening. And laying there, wallowing in her grief, didn’t feel like something her mother would have approved of.
Her mom had always been a practical, productive person.
Harper ran her fingers lightly over her eyes. She could feel the puffiness. A sigh that had nothing to do with sadness slipped out. She had to travel in a few hours. Being on a plane was only going to make the puffiness worse.
She sat up. Archie was in his bed. He lifted his head, looking at her expectantly. “Sorry, baby dog. I’m not going anywhere.”
She took a washcloth from the bathroom and carried it out to the kitchen. She filled it with ice from the fridge dispenser and then ran it under a little water to dampen it.
She went back to bed, lay down, and put the ice pack over her eyes. The cold felt good. She heard Archie sigh. Her mind drifted to what awaited her.
The assisted-living facility manager who’d called had promised there would be an email sent to Harper shortly with allthe information needed, but Harper still tried to think through everything that would need to be done.
Her mother would be cremated, as per her wishes. The manager had assured Harper that the death certificate would be taken care of on their end. All she would have to do was sign the paperwork to authorize the cremation. She had her mother’s power of attorney, something that had been done a while ago.
Her mother had known about her dementia well before Harper had realized anything was wrong. It wasn’t as though her mother had been hiding it. Harper had worked a lot and hadn’t lived nearby.
She’d seen her mom as often as she could, but her line of work occasionally required her to travel with the celebrities who’d hired her.
If she could do things differently… But what would she have done? Not taken on those clients? Her mother had been proud of her. Harper knew that because of how many times her mom had told her so. In person, and in the many letters her mom had sent. Writing letters might be old-fashioned, but those letters in her mom’s neat handwriting were now a treasure.
They were stored in a shoebox on the top shelf of her closet in her L.A. place. Another reason to get there soon and clear that space out.
Harper wished she had those letters with her. It hadn’t occurred to her to bring them. She’d have them soon. Mitch had promised to help her move her things. What there was to move.
She wished her mom could have met Mitch. She’d have liked him, Harper thought. How glad she was that he had stepped up to help her with travel arrangements. That was sweet and unexpected and yet, so like him. He might think he wasn’t good at comforting, but in his own way, he excelled at it.
She flipped the washcloth over, adjusting it to fit over her eyes. She’d pack soon.
