Page 129 of Even After This
“I’m not movingto Colorado this morning, Molly. The property sale has to go through before we can even start on the renovations.” I stand in my Dallas living room, arms crossed, eyes glued to the TV.
Speaking of Twelve Bluebells, I check my phone for Prissy’s call. Nothing. Here at the end of the option period for the ranch, unexpected structural issues threaten the deal. I need to hear from my realtor.
“Do you really want to move somewhere that gets these mega storms?” Molly motions to the news coverage.
A massive cold front is shutting down airports across the central states. Pictures of downed electricity poles, roads blanketed with snow, and brightly colored maps noting torrential weather fill the screen. The groundhog wasn’t kidding about an extended winter.
She rubs her forehead. “It’s just hard to swallow that you’re leaving.”
Hopefully. Hopefully I’m leaving.
After I stayed in Colorado for six weeks, returning to Dallas feels a little odd. This will always beahome for me, though it may not always bemyhome. Between my newfound peace, new friendships, and Twelve Bluebells Ranch, my world has shifted. It feels purposeful. Solid.
Uncertainty exists, pain is inevitable. But an unexplainable equanimity underscores my days.
When my phone rings, I do a double take at the screen. “Hello?”
“Meredith.”
“Penelope?” I glance up to Molly and shrug.
“I’m calling about Alex. There’s been an accident. Can you get on a plane?” As efficient and professional as I remember Harlan’s assistant to be, her tone is uneasy.
At the blunt explanation, I lose my breath. An accident. An accident.
Deep inhale. I command my brain to separate reality from assumption. Truth from fear. Deep exhale.
“We’re in LA. Can you get on a plane? Due to the weather, the Holcombes are grounded in Colorado. Olivia too. The earliest anyone can travel is twenty-four hours. But I don’t know what’s going to happen to Alex.” Penelope’s voice breaks, and she pauses. “Can you come be with Harlan?”
The words drag through thick syrup before they make sense to me. “Yes. What do you need?” I cover the speaker on my phone and say to Molly, “Grab my luggage out of my closet, please. The small blue rolling carry-on bag.”
Her eyes grow huge, but she follows my instruction.
“A car will be at your house in thirty minutes to take you to the airport. I’m emailing you your itinerary.”
“What else can I do?”
“Just get here. Harlan needs you.” She ends the call.
Dread fills my chest, and it’s hard to breathe. Harlan may need more than I can offer.
After landing at LAX, I find Penelope’s driver. We travel through the city in silence. Scrolling the news on my phone, I catch several stories about the storm. On a separate feed, a paparazzi picture of Harlan walking into the hospital is paired with a blurb that the famous actor’s daughter has been in an accident. I only feel small guilt pangs when I pray that a newsworthy scandal breaks elsewhere to distract the photographers.
Now able to focus, I read through my emails and listen to voice messages. All from Prissy. With each piece of information shared, impending doom draws near. The owners withheld details about needed foundation repairs that greatly affect the structure. Prissy needs me in Colorado to sign off on the new discoveries before we can close. The sellers won’t extend the option period, which means other buyers are waiting in the wings. And Prissy’s latest text sinks my heart.
You are going to lose the house if you don’t call me.
But I don’t reply to her pleas because I can’t deal with this right now. Everything is happening too fast.
Only Alex matters. I know this. I’ve lived this.
Only Alex.
I’m sad about the possibility of losing the house, but I will not regret traveling to California for Alex. For Harlan.
Penelope waits for me just inside the doors of Saperstein Critical Care Tower at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Her pencil skirt, silk shirt, and heels can’t mask the stress evident in the dark circles under her eyes.
Alex has a special place in Penelope’s heart. And holding it together for everyone else can’t be easy. When is the fabulous Penelope Reid allowed to break down?
