It wasn’t until the golden gates closed behind them that Nadine gave a shuddering sigh.
“Pull over,” said Wes.
She didn’t argue but did as he said and turned off the ignition. Rain beat down on the car, sliding down the windows in twisting lines.
He heard the sniff as he was fighting back his own sorrow. “Hey,” he said.
“I only knew her a few weeks.” Nadine’s voice broke. “How can I be this upset?”
She burst into tears, and Wes didn’t think. He unbuckled his seat belt and gathered her in his arms, feeling her shoulders shake as she cried.He’d never seen Nadine cry. Two hours ago, he would have doubted it was possible and doubted even more that she would cry near him. Strangely, he was grateful he could be here for her. Concern for Nadine helped him avoid his own grief.
Finally, she sniffled against him. “Sorry,” she muttered, knuckling at her eyes like a child. Wes felt his heart crunch into the tiniest nugget.
He opened the glove compartment, and thank God, there were tissues. He handed her one and took one for himself. “Here.”
“Are you crying too?” she asked.
Wes steeled himself for the anger. His mother hated it when anyone cried besides her.
Nadine’s hand, warm and firm, came over to cover his. “That makes me feel less alone,” she said.
Wes’s eyes stayed on her hand, blurred with tears, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Then she shifted her grip to hold him tighter, and he knew that he had. He wiped his eyes with his free hand so hard he saw shapes and found himself unable to answer. Death’s concave mirror was turning all his expectations of Nadine upside down.
She sniffled. “I keep thinking about that obit in theHerald, the one I ran.”
He managed to find his words. “What about it?”
She moved into her seat and leaned her head back, leaving Wes with a hollow feeling where she’d been. “Dot was right. I didn’t do her justice. I let her be reduced to the things she did, with nothing of who she was.”
Wes sat to face her fully, thinking about what kind of an obit could reflect the Dot he’d come to know. “Would you put in her sweet tooth?”
Nadine smiled. “I’d write about her house and how she said each item had a story she’d been waiting to tell.”
Wes remembered that conversation. “And that she’d only told a few.”
“I would have interviewed people who found solace in Dot’s books and connected with characters like Peg and Alice.”
“Ilsa,” interjected Wes. “I liked Ilsa.”
Nadine’s mouth dipped. “There’s no way to go back and fix it. I wish—” She hesitated. “I wish I could have done better by Dot.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Dot really seemed to live,” Wes said, struggling for the right words. “That sounds…ugh. I mean, we all live, but she had a…” He trailed to a stop, unable to finish his thought.
“In the obits biz, we call it joie de vivre.” She reached past him and got another tissue. “You know what’s terrible?”
“What?”
Nadine laid her forehead against the steering wheel, speaking to her knees. “My first thought when Brent told us was that it was bad timing. I’m so self-centered. Dot died, and all I could think about was my career. What a piece of work I am.”
Wes looked over in awe. “I thought the same thing.”
She twisted her head to face him. “You did?”
“I was never going to say a word, but yeah. I did.”
“We’re evil.” She sounded impressed at the depths of their joint nastiness. Then she grinned. “Dot would have had a laugh out of that.”
“She would have.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t put that in her obit though.”
