The Perfect Stranger (Social Media #2)(37)

Addison beamed. “I’m so glad you like it, Mommy. I knew a good breakfast would make you feel better.”

My sweet, kind, caring girl, Landry thought then—and thought it again late last night, when she went into her daughter’s room to kiss her good-night and good-bye for the weekend.

“I just got paid, so I bought you some magazines at work this afternoon,” Addie said, handing over a bag from the hotel gift shop. “Good Hollywood gossipy ones, the kind you like, to keep you busy on the plane.”

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetie. Don’t spend your money on me.”

“I like to. You spend your money on me. Oh, and I made you this. Wear it with your black dress tomorrow.”

Addison handed her an onyx bracelet featuring two silver beads etched with the initials MH.

She could barely thank her daughter over the lump in her throat, and gave her a long, hard hug.

“She loved jewelry,” she told Addie. “Meredith did. She blogged about that. She said that’s how she got into the habit of wearing earrings and necklaces to bed, because it made her head feel less naked after she lost all her hair.”

“Oh, Mom . . . Poor Meredith. I wish I could have made that bracelet for her instead of . . . well, I was thinking of it as a memorial bracelet for you, but now . . .”

“I know. You’re so sweet, Addie.”

“So are you. You’re being a good friend. Meredith would be glad you’re going to be there for the service tomorrow.”

“I’m sure she would be.”

If the tables were turned, Landry knows, Meredith would be the first to get on a plane. That knowledge has been a motivating factor.

“Who all is going for sure?”

Landry told her the two she’s certain about: A-Okay and Elena. Jaycee has a business commitment in New York and can’t possibly get away.

“I know it’s going to be a sad weekend for y’all, but it’ll be nice to meet your friends in person, Mom—don’t you think?”

“I’m sure it will be,” she said, because that was the easiest answer.

In truth—she’s not so sure.

Everyone’s ambivalent about meeting under these circumstances. All this time, whenever they’ve talked about arranging an in-person get-together, Meredith was at the heart of the discussion. It’s impossible to imagine meeting at last without her there.

Landry spoke to A-Okay again on Thursday, and to Elena as well, after Meredith’s daughter posted the weekend funeral arrangements on her mother’s blog.

Elena, with her thick New England accent, was a pleasant surprise when she called that afternoon. They don’t have much in common—Elena is a decade younger, never-married schoolteacher—yet they chatted for over an hour, not just about Meredith, but about Landry’s kids and Elena’s first grade class, about travel and food and clothes and books and the sad state of Elena’s love life.

“When you live in a small town and work in a small town elementary school, it’s not easy to find a decent, eligible guy without baggage—especially when you have more than your share of it.”

“Of . . . ?” She was having a hard time following Elena’s rapid-fire speech and thick New England accent.

“Baggage. It’s hard for a guy to deal with the fact that I’m scarred—in more ways than one.” She pronounced hard and scarred as “hahd” and “scahd.”

“Everyone has baggage,” she said. “And the right guy will be able to deal with it.”

“I guess. But I haven’t found him yet.” Elena sighed, then changed the subject back to the memorial service. “If you go, I’ll go.”

“I’m going.”

“Then I’ll get a flight. There are some great fare sales out of Boston right now. I just can’t go until Saturday morning. I have a staff banquet Friday night.”

Landry assured her that was fine, then hung up and called A-Okay, who picked up this time on the first ring.

That conversation was more stilted, but only because Kay isn’t as outgoing a person as Elena. She’s friendly in her own reserved way, though, and before they hung up, she said she’d drive down to Cincinnati on Saturday.

“Drive? Really?”

“It’s only a couple of hours from here.”

“Wow. I guess I don’t know my midwestern geography very well.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know my southern geography either. I’ve never even been south of Indiana.”

“Really? You’ll have to come down and visit sometime,” Landry heard herself offering.

Kay was noncommittal. “That would be nice. I’ll have to do that sometime.”

All they have to do is get through this weekend in Cincinnati. If the three of them hit it off, great. If they don’t, they can go back to being online acquaintances, as long as the lack of anonymity doesn’t change things going forward.

“Jittery about flying?” Rob asks, glancing over at Landry as he flicks the turn signal for the airport exit.

“Me? No! I’m not afraid to fly.”

She used to be, years ago, for a while. After September eleventh.

Before cancer.

Once you’ve had cancer, phobias over mundane things like commercial air travel tend to fall by the wayside. You no longer worry about being killed in a plane crash. In the grand scheme of things—when you’re in the midst of fighting cancer, uncertain about what lies ahead—that might seem like the more merciful option.