But something about standing here, surrounded by beautiful things, and good food, and kind people, makes me think maybe wanting to feel a bit of joy for just a little while wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
I glance my sister’s way, watching Bea’s attempt to hide her hope dissolve into a full-on smile. That’s when I realize I’m smiling, too.
Finally, I turn back to Sula. “When do I start?”
* * *
—
Two days later, I’m hired and officially trained, dunking a piece of pumpkin glazed doughnut （made by Toni, of course） into a cup of cold coffee that I forgot about this morning.
“Well,” I tell Toni and Bea, who sit across from me at the back of the store, all our feet up on an old crate. “This is exhausting shit.”
They both nod.
“But it’s energizing, too.”
“You’re a natural at it,” Toni says. “You caught on so fast.”
Bea beams my way. “She’s like that with everything. When Kate’s compelled by something and decides she’s going to learn about it, she throws herself into it, works her butt off, and figures it out. Every time. I’ve always admired that.”
Happiness, thick and sweet as honey, seeps from my heart through my limbs. “Thanks, BeeBee. That’s nice of you.”
“I say what I mean, KitKat.” She toes my Doc Martens with hers. I’ve always privately loved that while Jules wouldn’t be caught dead in Doc Martens （in her words, they do not flatter her silhouette）， Bea’s always been my Docs twin.
Toni clucks, nodding his chin toward our boots. “Tell me you two brought shoes with less tread to change into later.”
“Shit.” Bea groans, dropping her boots to the floor. “I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” I ask.
Toni rolls his eyes. “I swear to God you two need a personal secretary.”
“Sula’s birthday party,” Bea reminds me, voice lowered. “Tacos and Tangos. You said you didn’t think you were up for it.”
Toni frowns. “Wait, why not?”
I glance back toward the office, where Sula came in to work hours ago and hasn’t come out since, birthday be damned. Two days of being here, after all the kindness she’s shown me, I can go to her birthday party. “I wasn’t sure I’d feel good enough,” I lie to Toni, pointing to my shoulder.
“Ahhhh,” he says.
“But I’m doing better,” I tell him and Bea, glad, for once, not to be telling some degree of a fib. “I’ll be able to make it.”
“We just need to go home and grab the right shoes,” Bea says.
“That works perfectly,” I tell her. “I forgot the scarf I knit Sula at home. I can grab that, too.”
“Let’s go, kids!” Sula yells, tromping out of her office. “Time to close up! Tacos and Tangos, here we come!”
Bea says, “Only Sula would work on her birthday.”
“Business doesn’t sleep on birthdays,” Sula tells us. “Besides, I have to live up to my mantra: work hard, play hard. Everyone knows Tacos and Tangos is trashed-Sula night. I’ll still be dancing on tables while you children stumble off to your beds.”
Toni sighs. “She’s such a Sagittarius.”
* * *
—
“Tacos and Tangos, huh?” I peer around as we step into a classic loft-style apartment—exposed brick, tall ceilings, industrial finishes.
“Tacos and Tangos,” Bea confirms, her gaze scouring the gathering of people. The place could be painfully echoey, but colorful tapestries hang along the walls, and large abstract-print rugs cover the wide-plank wood floors, soaking up sound.
“So,” she says, shrugging off her jacket.
I shrug mine off with Bea’s help as she lifts it from where it’s draped over my shoulder with the sling. She takes it and hangs our coats beside each other. “So?”
“I’m just checking in,” she says, “making sure you’re okay, given—”
“Christopher!” Margo hollers from the kitchen. “Stop feeding my child sugar.”
My gaze swivels to a hot pink club chair, where the jerk in question sits with a baby （toddler? who the hell knows） in his lap, holding what looks like a churro for them to gnaw on.
“It was the churro or my finger!” he calls back. “She’s just sucking it more than anything, anyway. Is she teething?”
“When isn’t she?” Margo says over her shoulder, walking up to us, giving both Bea and me bracing hugs, even with my sling, which goes a little way to make up for the fact that Christopher’s here. “You came! I saved you tacos!”