Page 41 of See You at the Sunset

“Martin says they missed a charge on the invoice and I underpaid him,” she admitted.

“Well, that’s nonsense. I watched you review that thing myself. You were meticulous,” Mimi assured her.

“I don’t know, Mimi. I could have made a mistake. I just need to check and see.” Jia hated doubting herself, but after always being considered a screwup when it came to these kinds of things, she sometimes allowed herself to believe it to be true.

“We went through all of these receipts together, sweetie. So if there’s an error, it’s just as likely my fault as yours. Don’t get down on yourself. How do we know it’s not Martin’s fault, huh?” Mimi squeezed Jia’s shoulder as she walked past her to the kitchen. Jia watched her as she put a mug down on the kitchen island to make herself some tea.

The marble of the island was gorgeous. They’d gotten it from a slab company that had leftover pieces from larger commercial builds. A remnant piece that perfectly matched the countertops. The countertops. Jia looked at them and then back to the island. Wait, the counters and the island were cut from the same slab of marble. They were cut down to size.There would be only one line on the invoice because they only bought one piece.

“AHA!” Jia screamed, waving the invoice in the air. “I figured it out! We didn’t make a mistake after all. It’s a clerical error, if anything,” she squealed.

“Just like I told you, honey. Now, why would you doubt yourself? Just because some man made it seem like there was no way he was the one that was wrong?” Mimi’s words pierced Jia. It was a moment of déjà vu. A man, her boss, telling her she’d made a mistake, that there’d been an error—hers—when she absolutely knew in her gut she was right. Questioning herself. Too scared to fight back to clear her name.

Jia wanted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. Justice wasn’t for the weak, for those too soft, like Jia.

This whole day had started off so well. Jia was starting to feel safe, secure, and at peace. Happy. Now, because of Martin’s message, all the bad memories and feelings of inadequacy crept back up to haunt her. And though she was, she firmly believed, right in both instances, she couldn’t shake the frustration of so easily being blamed as the one who was wrong.

She should let it all go. Just appreciate where she was now.

If only it were that easy.

16

Henry had come to expect that things just were slower out here in the desert compared to in New York, compared to anywhere, really. But a morning of errands where each one took longer than necessary than the last had him on his last nerve.

“Tell your granddad that my Oliver likes to cut the pills up in half and to take them with warm milk to swallow easier. If he doesn’t have one of those pill cutters, you can pick one up in aisle ten,” the attendant at the pharmacy told him.

“We’re the only grocery store that carries the lactose-free milk. How many did you have to hit up before you found us?” asked the cashier at the grocery store.

“I heard the coffee shop on the corner is gonna expand over into the next space. How long before you think they’re gonna reopen?” said the driver in the car in front of Henry, to the driver in the car in the lane next to him. The two drivers had come to a halt at the stop sign, rolled down their windows, called out to each other in greeting, and started havinga conversation right then and there, just as Henry pulled up behind them.

It wasn’t worth it for him to get upset and honk.

But because of all of this, he’d gotten back a little later than he’d planned.

“Granddad, I’m back. I got your meds and some groceries for dinner. How do pork chops sound? I know a recipe where they’re extra tender and juicy so it won’t be hard to chew,” Henry called out.

There was no response.

“Granddad?” he called out again. He walked through the kitchen where he’d entered from the garage and into the family room. His grandfather’s lounge chair was empty, but the TV was still on and his slippers sat there beside it.

“Granddad?” he said even louder. His heart picked up the pace. The bathroom door was open, but no one was inside. He peeked into the main bedroom, where the bed was made but the room empty. He looked into the second bedroom, where he had taken up residence, and no one.

He rushed down the hallway and out the front door. He looked up the street and down the other side. No one was in sight. He didn’t know what led him there, but he crossed the road and through the gate with the sign “No. 29 Prickly Pear Dr” to Mimi and Jia’s house. He knocked on the door.

“Hello? Anyone home?” he said.

Nothing.

And then he heard it. The faint sound of a familiar tune. He walked in the direction of the music. And as he approached, it got louder and louder. “Hey, Macarena,” the music sang, a chorus of other voices shouting along with it. And then laughter and joyful screams and, as he got closer, the sounds of splashes and voices.

A party.

At the pool.

He picked up speed until he got to the gate and noticed what looked like the entirety of Sunset Hills packed into the pool area and spilling over to the bocce ball courts where lawn chairs and wheelchairs were set up under large patio umbrellas. Every pool chair was taken with towels draped over them or residents lounging in them wearing large straw hats. And in the shallow end of the pool, a group of people dancing the Macarena in the water.

He was certain his granddad wouldn’t be here. He hated the water, despite having lived with a pool in his backyard for decades. That pool had been meticulously cared for and cleaned for whenever Henry would visit. But Dennis had never even dipped a toe in. And the man absolutely did not know the Macarena. He was more a waltz guy.