“Gingerbread,” Hugo said. “Her favorite.”
Another tear slipped down Nancy’s cheek. She drank deeply, throat working as she swallowed. She took another sip before setting the cup down back on the tray. She took a step away from Hugo. “I’d like to leave now. I’ve seen enough for one day.”
Mei rushed forward, taking Nancy by the elbow and guiding her toward the door. Nancy stopped before Mei could open it for her. She looked back at Hugo, the color slowly returning to her face. “What are you?”
“I’m Hugo,” he said. “I run a tea shop.”
“Is that all?”
“No,” he said.
Nancy looked as if she were going to speak again, but shook her head as Mei opened the door for her. She hurried down the porch, glancing back only once. A moment later, lights from her car illuminated the tea shop as it backed slowly, turning around before she drove away.
Mei closed the door, turning and leaning against it. She wiped her eyes as she sniffled.
Hugo rushed to Wallace. “Are you okay?” he demanded. He reached out for Wallace and looked stricken when his hands passed right through him. Wallace felt the same. “You—”
Wallace smiled weakly. “I’m fine. It’s … I’m okay. Really. It took more out of me than I expected. You did it, though. I knew you could. Do you think it helped?”
Hugo gaped at him. “Do I think it helped?”
“That’s … what I asked, yes.”
Hugo shook his head. “Wallace, we gave her hope. She … maybe she has a chance now.” Wallace was stunned to see Hugo’s own eyes were wet. “Mei. I need you to—”
“No,” Wallace said before Mei could move. “This wasn’t about me. This is your moment, Hugo. You did this.” He looked at Mei. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”
“I need you to hug Hugo for me. Because I can’t, and I want to more than anything.”
Hugo’s eyes widened comically as Mei launched herself at him, legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck. It took Hugo a second, but he lifted his arms and held her close, her face in his neck, his in her hair. Apollo yipped excitedly, dancing around them, tongue hanging from his mouth. “We did it, boss,” Mei whispered. “Oh my god, we did it.”
Wallace watched with fierce pride as Nelson moved toward them, and though he couldn’t touch them, he did the next best thing. He stood with his grandson and Mei.
Wallace smiled and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER
19
Acceptance.
It was easier than Wallace had expected.
Whatever he’d felt before he’d met the Manager, whatever he’d resigned himself to, it hadn’t been like this.
His head was clear.
He didn’t think it was peace he was feeling, at least not yet. He was still scared. Of course he was. The unknown always brought fear. His life, what there was of it, had been strictly regimented. He woke up. He took a shower. He dressed. He drank two cups of terrible coffee. He went to work. He met with the partners. He met with clients. He went to court. He’d never been one for theatrics. Just the facts, ma’am. He felt comfortable in front of a judge. In front of opposition. Most times he won. Sometimes he didn’t. There were highs and lows, setbacks and victories. The day would be long gone by the time he went home. He’d eat a frozen dinner in front of the television. If he was feeling particularly indulgent, he’d have a glass of wine. Then he’d go into his home office and work until midnight. When he finished, he’d take another shower before going to bed.
Day after day after day.
It was the life he knew. The life he was comfortable with, the one he’d made for himself. Even after Naomi had left and it felt like everything was crumbling, he held it all together by sheer force of will. It was her loss, he’d told himself. It was her fault.
He’d accepted it.
“You’re a white man,” his assistant told him at the office Christmas party, her cheeks flushed from one too many Manhattans. “You’ll fail up. You always do.”
He’d startled her when he’d laughed loudly. He’d been a little drunk himself. She’d probably never seen him laugh before.
If only she could see him now.
Here, in Charon’s Crossing, with three days left until the Manager returned, Wallace ran through the backyard as night gave way to the rising sun, Apollo chasing after him in a sort of game of tag, barking brightly. Wallace worried for a moment about disturbing the tea plants, but he and Apollo were dead. The plants wouldn’t be bothered if he didn’t want them to be.
“Got you,” he said, pressing his fingers between Apollo’s ears before taking off again.
He laughed when Apollo jumped on him, paws hitting his back, knocking him off his feet. He landed roughly on the ground and managed to roll over in time to get his face spectacularly licked. “Ugh!” he cried. “Your breath is awful.”
Apollo didn’t seem to mind.
Wallace allowed it to go on for a few moments longer before pushing the dog off. Apollo crouched down on his front paws, ears twitching, ready to play again.
“Did you ever have a dog?” Nelson asked him from his perch on the back deck.
Wallace shook his head as he pushed himself off the ground. “Too busy. Seemed a little mean to get one, only to be gone for most of the day. Especially in the city.”
“When you were younger?”
“My father was allergic. We had a cat, but it was an asshole.”
“Cats usually are. He’s a good boy. I worried, when we knew his time had come. We didn’t know what happened to dogs when they passed. They take a piece of our souls with them when they leave. I thought … I didn’t know what it’d do to Hugo.” He nodded toward the tea plants. “Toward the end, Apollo could barely walk. Hugo had to make a hard choice. Let him stay as he was, and be in pain, or give him the ultimate gift. It was an easier decision for him than I expected it to be. The vet came here, and they laid a blanket out in the garden. It was quick. Hugo said his goodbyes. Apollo smiled in that way that dogs do, like he knew what was happening. He took a breath and then another and then another. And then … he didn’t. His eyes closed. The vet said it was done. But he couldn’t see what we could.”
“He was still here,” Wallace said as Apollo pressed his head against his knee, trying to get him to run again.
“He was,” Nelson agreed. “Full of pep and vigor as if all the ailments and trappings of life had just faded away. Hugo tried to take him up to the door, but Apollo refused. Stubborn, he is.”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
Nelson laughed. “I suppose, though the same could be said about you.” His smile faded. “Or at least it used to be. Wallace, you don’t have to—”
“I know,” Wallace said. “But what choice do I have?”
Nelson was quiet for a long moment, and Wallace almost convinced himself the conversation was over. It wasn’t. Nelson smiled sadly and said, “It’s never enough, is it? Time. We always think we have so much of it, but when it really counts, we don’t have enough at all.”