Sounds filtered through her door from the kitchen. Frankie and Willa packing the cooler to take with them to the beach. She was glad they were going, and glad they were taking Jack along with them.
She’d told him she’d work on a way to get rid of those paparazzi, but she hadn’t come up with anything and now she was leaving. He’d understand, of course, but she wished she could wave a magic wand and make them go away. She wished for a lot of things.
Life didn’t work that way. Unfortunately.
She lay there until the house grew quiet again and the ice in the washcloth started to melt. Then she got up, dumped the ice in the bathroom sink, and took a look at herself in the mirror. Maybe there was a little less puffiness. She dabbed on some eye cream. There wasn’t much else she could do.
She got her suitcase down from the shelf in the closet. Archie followed her with his eyes, obviously unsure about what was going on. “Nothing to worry about, Archie. You’re not going anywhere.”
Without knowing how long they were going to be in Nevada, it was hard to know how much to pack. She was in no mood to put outfits together or spend a lot of brain power on what went together.
That resulted in the haphazard tossing of items into the suitcase. Sundresses, jeans, shorts, T-shirts, tank tops, a cardigan. She couldn’t imagine needing a swimsuit, but she put one in anyway, along with underwear, bras, and shoes.
There wasn’t much left in the dresser drawers or hanging in the closet when she was done. She was probably taking too much. She couldn’t find the energy to care. She made sure she had an outfit for the plane, something comfortable that she could sleep in.
That ended up being knit joggers, a tank top, and a zipper jacket that matched the joggers. She hadn’t worn the outfit since she’d arrived and had actually forgotten she’d brought it. But planes tended to be cold, so it was a good choice.
If she was hot when they got there, she’d ditch the jacket. She took out the sneakers she’d already packed. She’d wear those, too.
She’d shower before she got dressed to go, that would help her perk up. She hoped. She opened her laptop and started it so she could check email.
The promised email was there. It seemed like boilerplate, nothing really important. An outline of the funeral process, an outline for cremation, a checklist of things she’d need.
There wouldn’t be a funeral. After Harper’s dad had died, her mother had decided she didn’t want a funeral for herself. She said it was too sad and she didn’t want people to see her lying in a casket, as he had been. Afterwards, he’d been cremated, which was what her mom wanted too.
She’d asked that after being cremated, her ashes be scattered into the Pacific Ocean, which is what they’d done with Harper’s dad. They both had loved the ocean so much.
That wouldn’t happen until the trip to L.A. She just had to let Mitch know about it. She was sure he’d be all right with it.
She sat on the bed. Once her mom’s ashes were scattered, her parents would be together again. She sniffed, thinking about how much she missed them.
She had a sudden desire to talk to Buck, but then she felt guilty. That was silly. There was no reason to feel guilty for thinking of him. He was her biological father and a very nice man. On a whim, she called him.
Didn’t take him more than a single ring to answer. “Harper! Hello!”
“Hi, Buck.” The words came out soft and ragged. There was no hiding how she felt.
“You okay? You don’t sound okay.”
“Um…” She swallowed. “My mom passed away.”
“Sweetheart, I am so sorry to hear that. I know I never got to meet her, but she had to be a great woman based on how you turned out.”
“Thanks,” Harper managed. “I probably shouldn’t have called, but I just felt like…” She didn’t know, really. Why had she called him?
“You absolutely should have called. Why don’t you tell me one of your favorite memories of your mom?”
Harper breathed open-mouthed to get more air in as she searched her past. She went with the memory that came to her first. “She taught me how to roller skate.”
Buck laughed softly. “Now that’s impressive. Was she a good skater?”
“She was. She’d worked as a carhop when she was a teenager. You know what that is, right?”
“You bet I do. Now I’m even more impressed with her. What else was she good at?”
“Cooking. She used to bake a loaf of bread anytime new neighbors moved in, or someone had a baby, or anything like that. It was always her gift to them. She could sing. She had a beautiful voice, although she was shy about it. She was well-liked.”
“As are you.”
