“It’s nothing,” Edie said with a flick of her wrist. “I talked to Simon. He’s my husband—I have to talk to him.”
“Your cheating husband!” Frances cried. “You led us to believe you could hardly stand him.”
Edie’s face sagged, and for once, she looked older than her years. “It’s over, Franny. His affair is over.”
This news made Frances even more irrationally angry, if that was even possible. How much had Edie given up to that man through the years? “For now,” she said, seething. “But he’ll do it again.”
“Probably. But I love him and it’s my problem,” Edie said simply.
“See?” Frances said to Irene and Joan. “All lies!”
“You want to talk about lies, Fran?” Joan asked cooly. “Both of you are liars.Youpretended to be concerned for me and Irene when the FBI got involved, but in reality you never thought past your own fate. Don’t lie now and tell me you did, because it was obvious—you were on a plane before we even knew. Did either one of you ever think what would happen to me or Irene if wewere caught? Did you think the FBI would go easy on us, the two minorities?”
“No,” Edie said flatly. “Franny is right about that—I thought only about me. I was careless, and Simon found out, and he threatened me, and I did what he said because I loved him. I loved all of you! But you know what? It was the best decision I ever made. I’ve had an amazing life. I have four beautiful children, six beautiful grandchildren.”
“Well, good for you that you got a better family,” Joan said. “We didn’t,” she said, gesturing between her and Irene. “Wewerefamily until you blew it all up for your own selfish reasons. And why the hell did you keep the brooch? Don’t look so smug, Fran. You weren’t much better.”
Frances was livid now. “Why are you coming at me? She was turning me in, too.”
“You had means. We didn’t. You never looked back.”
“And you never told us about your secret love affair,” Edie said to Joan. “So, you’re right, we’re all liars, and maybe now is a good time for everyone to tell the truth. Let’s start with you, Frances.”
Frances’s head was pounding now. “Excuse me?”
“You think I’m stupid, but all those pills you’re taking …? They aren’t supplements. So, what is wrong with you? Parkinson’s? Cancer?”
And just like that, the rage in Frances’s sails was blown out by a single word. “None of your business,” she said tightly.
“Fran?” Joan said. “You have cancer? I thought something was going on, but—”
“It’s fine,” Frances said, and waved her hand at them in a feeble attempt to stop the questions.
“What kind?” Irene asked. “Curable or incurable?”
Frances couldn’t help her sad chuckle. “Leave it to Irene to get right to the point. Yes, it’s cancer. And it’s incurable. It’s an inoperable brain tumor.”
The silence that fell over the room felt like a weighted blanket. Frances could see the shock and the pity, and she loathed it.
“Franny,” Edie said softly.
“Don’t.” Frances threw a hand up. “Just … don’t. I’ve lived a good life. I’m okay.” She stood up. Too quickly, apparently, because she had to catch herself on the wall. She started unsteadily toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Irene asked.
“Away from all of you,” Frances said. “We’re all liars. Great! Glad we got that out of the way. I was a fool for thinking we could reunite. That we could rekindle what we had, which for me were the three most important relationships of my life outside my husband and child. I was an idiot to think that at our age we could pull this off. I was a bigger idiot to think we could trust a young woman with too much to lose. So, please forgive me for dragging you along, but I am dying, and this was my Make-A-Wish, and that is my trump card.” She opened the door and went out.
Into cool night air. Into dark, into silence, into the unknown.
She’d been headed here all along.
Thirty-five
Edie didn’t hesitate; she grabbed a jacket—for Frances—and went after her.
Apparently, time did not heal all wounds. All those old hurts were living in them still. Frances was right—who were they kidding? This idea had been wholesale madness from the jump. It was alarming how four senior women could think this was the thing to do. Did any of them have any functioning common sense? On what planet could they attempt the biggest job they’d ever done in their seventies? If she hadn’t been so angry with Simon, and Rocco—and Marcy, come on, Marcy, too—she would have run the other way.
But she didn’t run. She was hotheaded, and stubborn, and all the things Simon had ever accused her of being. And now she could add the worst grandmother ever for having roped Marcy into this. She was so nervous, because she didn’t know if she could still crack a safe under pressure. But mostly, Edie was worried about Franny. She’d never had a friend like her and she didn’t want to lose her again. Not like this, anyway.
