And from the looks of those nostrils of hers, Lucinda wasn’t too thrilled to be seeing me, either.
Still, she kind of liked the drama.
Her tone was a little bit incredulous as she brought me up to speed, like how I could’ve chosen the crosswalk of a busy street, of all places, to have that nonconvulsive seizure was beyond her. “If that Good Samaritan hadn’t saved you, you’d be flat as a pancake right now.” She paused and tilted her head, like she might be picturing that. “I was at my Whining & Wine-ing group when they called, but it’s okay. It’s fine. Of course I dropped everything and came here right away.”
Her tone made me wonder if that was true. Like maybe she’d tossed back one last glass of chardonnay.
I shook my baffled head again, like, Wait. “What happened?”
She leaned in a little, like I hadn’t been paying attention. “You almost died in the road.”
“But what caused the seizure?” I asked at last, my wits starting to come back.
“They don’t know. Could even just be dehydration. But they want to do an MRI before they release you. Looks like you’ll have to stay overnight.”
And then, quickly, to snuff out even the possibility that I might ask her to stay—which I would absolutely never do—she added, “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
I waited for it all to sink in while Lucinda checked her texts and then gathered up her things.
She was one of those put-together ladies who always matched her shoes to her purse. She kept her hair no-nonsense and short, but she always had a full face of makeup. I’d always suspected she focused hard on her surface because there wasn’t much underneath. But I really didn’t know her that well. Even after all these years.
I did not anticipate, for example, that when her daughter, Parker, also known as my evil stepsister, FaceTimed her right then, Lucinda would answer the call. Or that she’d proceed to fill Parker in on everything that had just happened like she was relating the hottest of hot-off-the-press gossip. And then, when Parker said, “Let me see,” that Lucinda would turn the phone around and train it on me.
I frowned at Lucinda and shook my head. But it was too late.
There was Parker’s catlike face—as scary at iPhone size as it was in real life.
How long had it been since I’d seen her? Years.
I could go my whole life, and it wouldn’t be too long.
“Oh my god!” Parker shrieked. “I can’t believe you almost got killed by a Volkswagen Beetle! I mean, at least pick something cool, like a Tesla.”
“Noted,” I said.
It was strange to see her again. She’d highlighted the hell out of her hair. And she’d really taken a deep dive into the world of eye shadow. She had better style than she had in high school—in a newscaster-ish way. The sight of her kind of stung my eyes. But I couldn’t deny that technically—and I say this as a professional in the industry—she had a pretty face.
Too bad she ruined it by being … pure evil.
“You look terrible,” Parker said, squinting in faux sympathy. “Did you land on your face?”
I looked at Lucinda, like, Seriously?
But Lucinda just smiled and gestured for me to answer, like she thought this might be a nice conversation.
I sighed and shifted my eyes back to the screen. “I did not land on my face,” I answered robotically.
“You just look so bloated,” she went on.
“I’m fine.”
“Did they have to pump you full of saline or something?”
“What? No.”
“You just kind of look like James Gandolfini right now. That’s all I’m saying.”
Okay. We were done here.
“Hoo-boy,” I said, checking the nonexistent watch on my wrist. “Look at the time.”
Then I rolled over to face the wall.
“Is she pouting?” Parker demanded as Lucinda took the phone back.
“You’d be fussy, too, if it had happened to you.”
“But it would never happen to me. If I ever get run over, it’ll be by an Aston Martin.”
A thousand years later, after Lucinda finally hung up and was ready to go, she paused by my bed, looking me over as if she couldn’t begin to fathom my life choices.
“I hope the Betty Ford Center isn’t next for you,” she said then, shaking her head like I was an unsolvable mystery. “They said you showed up in the ER positively dripping in red wine.”
At the words, I sucked in a breath. “Where’s the dress?”