Page 4 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
My coffee suddenly tastes even more bitter. “Yes, they do.”
“Still, blood is thicker than water. Or in this case, friendship. The Kelleys and Greenes might as well be related.” She pats my arm. “You’ll understand once you’ve been here longer.”
I spot Adam across the room, a plate of food in his hands. He’s headed toward a table where Millie sits with Rhonda and a cluster of relatives. I set down my coffee cup.
“Excuse me,” I murmur to the gray-haired woman, and make my way through the crowd.
“Adam,” I say, touching his elbow. He turns, startled, as if he’d forgotten I was here. Maybe he had.
“Caitlin.” He blinks, then glances at the plate he’s carrying. “Hey. Sorry, I was just taking this to Millie. She hasn’t eaten all day.”
“Of course.” I swallow my disappointment. “Can we talk for a minute?”
His eyes flicker to Millie, then back to me. “Can it wait? I don’t want the food to get cold.”
The food comprises a sandwich, chips, and a slice of cake,none of which would suffer from a two-minute delay, but I nod. “Sure. Later.”
He gives me a quick, distracted smile and continues toward Millie’s table. I watch as he sets the plate in front of her, how she grabs his hand and doesn’t let go, pulling him into the empty chair beside her. He doesn’t resist.
I wander back to the refreshment table, no longer hungry, but needing something to do. A woman in a floral dress is arranging cookie plates.
“Can I help?” I ask.
She looks up, surprised. “Oh! Yes, if you’d like. We need these taken around to the tables.”
For the next hour, I circulate with plates of cookies and coffee refills, playing the part of helpful almost-Kelley. I make small talk with people who knew Eric, learning more about him in death than I ever did in life. He was an avid reader who led the book club at the public library. He volunteered at Habitat for Humanity every summer. He made the best smoked brisket in three counties.
Through it all, I keep one eye on Adam, who hasn’t left Millie’s side. She’s wearing a simple black dress that hugs her curves, her dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Even grief-stricken, she’s beautiful, and jealousy sits heavy in me.
The crowd thins as afternoon stretches toward evening. I’m stacking empty plates when Adam finally approaches me.
“Hey,” he says, looking exhausted. His tie has been loosened, and his suit jacket has disappeared somewhere. “Sorry I’ve been… preoccupied.”
“It’s okay,” I lie. “How are you holding up?”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, leaving it standing in messy spikes. “Not great. Millie’s a wreck, and Rhonda’s just… she’s in shock, I think. Dad’s worried about her.”
I notice he doesn’t answer about himself. “What can I do?”
“Actually…” He hesitates, looking uncomfortable. “We’re going to take Millie and Rhonda to my parents’ place. Dad thinks it would be good for them to be somewhere other than their own house tonight, with all the memories.”
“Okay.” I wait for him to continue, to invite me along. When he doesn’t, I ask, “Should I meet you there, or…?”
His discomfort deepens. “Actually, Caitlin, it might be better for you to go home tonight.” Millie’s really struggling, and…
“And what?” My voice comes out sharper than intended.
“She needs to be with people who knew her dad. Who understands what she’s going through.”
I stare at him, incredulous. “You don’t want me there?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you there,” Adam says, but his eyes slide away from mine. “It’s just–”
“Adam, dear.” His mother, Paula, appears at his elbow. “They’re ready to go. Gerald’s bringing the car around.”
“I’ll be right there,” Adam tells her.
Paula looks at me with what might be sympathy, might be satisfaction. “Caitlin, I think it’s best if it’s just family tonight. You understand, don’t you? Millie and Rhonda need to be with people they’re comfortable with.”
