Page 2 of A Thousand Little Goodbyes

Her friend’s rich chuckle sounded again, filling the whole car with its warmth. That laugh was the main reason why her radio show,Scarlett Sunrise, was so popular. Five million listeners a week plugged in to that sound—no small feat when radio had been on the decline for years.

“What? You forget I’ve been to your house. I don’t care how many candles and air fresheners you use. Nothing short of burning the whole thing down will get rid of that smell.”

“I know.” Chrissie heaved a sigh. “But Rufio can’t seem to help himself.”

Scarlett slipped the sunglasses down, piercing Chrissie with the rich chocolate of her gaze. “You know the people who sold you that house didn’t actually move to Hawaii, right?”

“What?” Chrissie touched the brakes a little too hard, sending them both lurching against their seat belts. “What are you talking about? Of course they did. It’s why they left Rufio behind. They said it would be cruel to make him go through all the state quarantine requirements at his age.”

Scarlett’s response to this was a slow shake of her head. “You poor, deluded fool. I’m pretty sure they only went as far as Ashland. They took one look at you, read your full measure, and saw a chance of escape. I bet their new house smells amazing—nary a whiff of ammonia anywhere.”

Chrissie opened her mouth and closed it again, not so much at a loss for words as she was coming to the realization that Scarlett was right.

“Sothat’swhy they blocked my Facebook friend request. And here I thought I must’ve done something to upset them.”

Scarlett clucked her tongue the way she always did when she was annoyed with Chrissie. But then she softened it by reaching over and patting Chrissie’s gray-sweats-clad knee.

She always did that, too. Sweet with the sour. Pleasure with the pain.

“If ever I have a cat that needs killing, you’re the last person on earth I’d turn to.” Scarlett winked. “But if I want someone to drop everything for two weeks and come with me on the trip of a lifetime, then you’re exactly my gal.”

* * *

Peter and Paul weren’t sewn together, but they were preserved in an enormous formaldehyde jar, which somehow seemed worse.

“Well, that was a bust,” Scarlett said as she handed over the twenty bucks and accepted the glossy photo the proprietor printed out from his home computer. They’d been forced to sit and make idle chitchat with his wife while the image took shape. “You look cute, though, so that’s something. You should set this as your Tinder profile and see what happens.”

Chrissie peeked at the picture and immediately wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even want to think about what kind of men would be attracted by two floating cow heads. Look. No matter which way you move, it feels like their eyes are following you.”

“It’s called trompe l’œil,” Scarlett said matter-of-factly. One year abroad in Paris, and she could have moonlighted as a tour guide at the Louvre. “And believe me when I say those aren’t the two things men will be focusing on in that picture.”

They’d agreed to switch places for the next leg of the trip, so Chrissie opened the passenger door while Scarlett adjusted the driver’s seat to accommodate her shorter stature.

“Admit it,” Scarlett added as the pair of them settled in. “You haven’t been on a date in the last decade, have you?”

Chrissie’s response came with knee-jerk speed. “Yes, I have! I went on one a few weeks ago.”

Scarlett coughed.

“Okay, a few months ago.”

She coughed again.

Chrissie gave in by flinging up her hands. “Fine. It’s been years. Are you happy now?”

“Not really, no. That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard.” Then, “Howmanyyears?”

Chrissie had to do some quick mental math. “Three, I think? I remember it was right before Kat had her tonsils out. The poor thing. She refused to let me leave her side even to sleep because she was so uncomfortable. We ended up bunking in her bed and watching every single episode ofSupernaturalback-to-back.”

She still carried with her the memories of that week—up to and including the sickly sweet smell of her then-thirteen-year-old daughter’s breath as her throat healed from the surgery—but she didn’t regret them. If anything, she missed them. Kat hadn’t needed her like that in very long time.

She hadn’twantedher in even longer.

As if reading her mind, Scarlett cast her a sideways glance. “You’re a good mom, Chrissie. A great one, in fact.”

“Say that to the text I got from her a few minutes ago.”

“Uh-oh. Was it all in caps?”