“I’ve only been gone a little more than a week, Marge. And anyway, we’re driving to Kansas City next.” Another lie that rolled trippingly off her tongue.
“Kansas City! Now what?”
“Another friend. Our last friend to check up on.”
“Who, Hillary Clinton?”
Frances smiled. “No, actually, it’s … Diane Miller. We’re sort of doing a high school reunion without the high school, you know?”
“Not really,” Marjorie said. “Hey, speaking of reunions, remember that cute little doctor from the hospital the day you fell?”
Frances’s heart picked up its pace, preparing to panic. She pressed two fingers to her aching temple. “Dr. McPherson?”
“I ran into her at Whole Foods. She has two cute little kids and was dressed like she just walked out of a J.Crew catalog.Verycute. But she was buying those daikon radishes. You know, the big white ones? I can’t abide them and can’t imagine who would. I always thought they looked like a dick and taste like one, too.”
“Marge!” Frances laughed. She opened the pill bottle and shook two out.
“She didn’t remember me at first, but then I told her I was with the old broad who fell and busted her head open.Thenshe remembered.”
“You spoke to her?”
“I’m a very friendly person. Of course I spoke to her.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked how you were. And if you ever went to see Dr. Jackson. Who’s that?”
Jesus, what were the odds? She loved Marjorie, but her friend seemed to be ten feet deep into Frances’s business right now. “Oh, you know, some follow-up they wanted me to do. But youknow how it is. I couldn’t even get on his schedule for months, so I just blew it off.”
“Franny! You have to go when and where they send you. Anyway, I told her you were fine, running around with friends like you were in your thirties all over again. She was very impressed.”
Frances closed her eyes. She popped the two pills and swallowed them dry. “That’s because people can’t envision what it’s like to get old. They expect us all to be on walkers.”
“So, listen, when you’re through in Kansas City, maybe I could fly out and meet you. We could do something fun. Maybe get into a little trouble.” She giggled.
Good Lord.Marjorie had no idea what sort of trouble Frances was looking to get into. “Better idea. Why don’t you go to bridge club and find a new guy?”
“I can’t. Dan is dating Helen now, and she runs the bridge club. Oh my gosh, look at the time. I’m going to be late for square dancing.Callme.”
Frances promised she would. She hung up, then lay on her back on the bed, her eyes closed.
She didn’t think about Marjorie in one of those too-short square dancing dresses, although it was tempting to imagine it. She thought of Edie. The depth of her disappointment was quite surprising. She considered herself a practical person, and the odds of this ever working had been practically zero from the beginning. But Edie wouldn’t evenspeakto them.
She had so many questions now that she’d seen her. She wanted to know what work she’d had done to her face and body, because she was stunning, still as beautiful as she’d ever been. She wanted to know how she’d managed to stay with Simon all these years. How many children had she birthed, and did she achieve the big family she’d always wanted? Who were her friends, was she happy in that extraordinary house with that extraordinary garden? Did Edie know how important she’d been to Frances’s life? She’d truly loved her like a sister, she missed her like a sister, and she needed to say it all before she died.
Unfortunately, she’d been around long enough to know that wishes were just that, and not all of them came true.
So many things left undone.
She made herself sit up. She paused, dizzy. She reached for her pills and took one that was supposed to help with the dizziness, which was a side effect of the pill that was supposed to keep the tumor from growing. When the dizziness had passed, she slowly stood.
Maybe it was for the best that Edie had kicked them out of her house and they weren’t going through with it. Frances really didn’t know how much longer she had before she wouldn’t be able to get out of a bed.
Thirteen
The next morning, Joan, Irene, and Frances were still slow to give up on one last heist, even though all signs pointed to it being a bust.
They had taken the discussion to a diner on Main Street, Sunny Side Up, which seemed to be the only breakfast game in town, judging by the crowd. Plants hung in the large storefront windows painted with the signs of fall—pumpkins and hay bales, ghosts and cauldrons. Walking into the diner, one had to go past a display case stocked full of homemade pies. They’d lost Joan there for a couple of minutes.
