By now, they had reached the gazebo, and Edie could turn the subject. “What do you think?” she asked, gesturing to the structure. She’d decorated it for the fall season. There were arrangements of pumpkins around the perimeter, and wreaths hanging from the columns that held up the roof. Inside, she’d had Chuck bring up bales of hay, covered with horse blankets for sitting, and had directed him to arrange them on a thick rug around the tabletop fire pit. There were clusters of mums in all the brightest autumn hues of purple and orange, an old pie safe she’d found at a garage sale where she kept picnic supplies. Edie’s hope that someone in her family would take interest in all the work she put into this garden was eternal. But in the meantime, she liked to come here to meditate or read, or, if she was being honest, have a couple of drinks and decompress.
“It’s beautiful, Nana.”
Edie smiled. “Thank you.”
They stepped up through one of the two entrances into the open-air gazebo. Edie took a seat on one of the hay bales and put her hands on her knees. “All right, love, we’re here. Lay it on me. What is it that we needed to come all the way to the gazebo to speak about? Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
Marcy bit her lower lip. “Just promise me you won’t be mad.”
There was no chance she was promising that, but she’d do her best. “Mad about what?”
“Just … just hold on,” Marcy said, holding her hand out, to indicate Edie should not move, and stepped out of the gazebo.
“You better not be bringing in a puppy for me to take care of!” Edie shouted after her. That had happened more than once in her life. Edie loved dogs, but she liked to plan for them. “I don’t like surprises!”
“Neither do I, so apologies for this one.”
That familiar voice came from the backside of the gazebo. Edie scrambled to her feet and whipped around.
Frances stood at the back opening, holding on to a post. “Don’t hit me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Edie shot back. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying to talk to you. Obviously.” She took a step into the gazebo and glanced around. “Cute,” she said, nodding. “Very autumn-y. Did you do it?”
“Of course I did it. Don’t try and distract me with praise, Frances Delafield. It doesn’t work like it used to. Look, you clearly don’t understand—Simon has not changed his ways, and he is still very much a threat, okay? At least once a year he threatens to turn me in and make me, in his words, ‘sing.’ If he found you here, he would call the cops immediately.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a second,” Frances said agreeably. “I very clearly remember the last time. Sort of seared right here,” she said, tapping her forehead. “But I have to say I’m encouraged thatyoudidn’t call the cops.”
“Me!” Edie was insulted. “I would never.”
“Really? How was I supposed to know that?” Frances asked. “At the time, you didn’t exactly explain things. For all I knew, you were the one behind it all.”
Edie gasped. Surely Frances didn’t believe that. “Howdareyou. For the record, you never gave me a moment to explain. You were too busy hurling insults at me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the names you called me.”
“I’m sorry, but you were being a bitch, and back then, I had not learned the art of sugarcoating. Are you going to say hello, or what? I’ve really missed you, asshole.”
Edie glared at her. She had missed Frances, too.So much. So much that she walked right into her arms and hugged her. “You’re ridiculous coming here, and my God, you’re thin,” she said into Frances’s hair. “Jesus, iseveryoneon Ozempic?”
“Just clean living for me.” Frances pulled back and smiled at her. “It is so good to see you, Edie. Even though I still hate you.”
“Same.” Edie’s vision, she noticed, was a bit blurry with some new, unshed tears. That pissed her off—she was very proud of her ability to keep tears in check. But she really had missed this woman. There had been so many times she’d needed her, this sister she’d never had. The mother, friend, coach, teacher—all of it.
“I think the most annoying thing of all is that you’re still so beautiful,” Frances said. “It’s not fair.”
“I know.” Edie sighed. “Spending his money is one of the true joys of my life.”
Frances laughed softly.
“What about you? Did you ever marry? Anyone I would know?”
“God, no one you would know. I couldn’t risk that. And besides, I was on the run for two years after you turned us in.”
“Ididn’t turn you in.”
“Anyway, I’m the Widow Frances Deluca now. My husband died of ALS a few years ago.”
“Oh my God,” Edie said softly. “I’m so very sorry.”
